


Oath of Rings

by combatfaerie



Series: Breaker of Rings [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Don't copy to another site, Elemental Magic, Gen, Vikings, Wrestling Stable: 4HW | The Four Horsewomen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combatfaerie/pseuds/combatfaerie
Summary: A prequel to BREAKER OF RINGS. (A Viking-era AU.) The four women seem so different: one a princess longing for a life outside castle walls, one who feels like a burden to her family, one who would do anything for her kin, and one striving to be a warrior once more. But what binds them is even stronger: magic. Will the powers that have defined their lives be enough to make them unite, or will their already fragile alliance crumble under the weight of their differences?
Series: Breaker of Rings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089200
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Charlotte couldn't remember ever seeing so many people in Castle Flair before, and yet she had never quite felt so alone in her ancestral home. Perhaps that was because, if left to her own devices, she had spent as much time away from it as possible. Whenever she could get away, she had been doing combat training with her brother Reid, which made his sudden death all the harder to bear. No one would say it to her face—even if she didn't always act like it, she was still the princess of the castle, after all—but she knew that some of Reid's knights wondered if he had been so busy training her that he had neglected his own duties. The mere thought that she could be in any way responsible for her brother's death made Charlotte hang up her sword and retreat to castle life, even though it chafed at her spirit, and this banquet was worse than a month of embroidery lessons.

"It must be such a relief to have an occasion to wear your dresses again." Stephanie, daughter of the visiting King Vincent, approached but kept a sensible distance away from her. Like Charlotte, she had grown up in a family whose legacy was centred on fighting, but Stephanie had shown little interest in taking part in battles herself. She was all too happy to procure the best warriors and let them do combat on her behalf.

Charlotte tried not to let her gaze harden. If it had been up to her, she would have kicked the McMahon clan members out of Castle Flair and their lands, but she also knew that everything she said and did—or didn't say and didn't do—reflected back on her father and would affect his alliances. "I did my initial sword training in a dress." She tried to make it sound more like an interesting fact to share than a blunt correction. "One never knows when they might have to defend themselves, and that is especially true of a princess. I can hardly ask an invading heathen to wait while I change into my fighting attire, can I?" Her laugh sounded brittle to her ears, as ready to shatter as her temper, but the surrounding din must have masked most of her disdain. 

Stephanie's answering smile was just as forced, and twice as obvious. "Well, it won't be long until that's no longer a problem for you." There was a cloying sweetness to her voice that made Charlotte want to drink all the wine she could find. 

It was very tempting to summon the winds outside Castle Flair and get them to blast Stephanie down the hall, but Charlotte forced her hands flat against her sides. It wasn't a well-known fact that she was an air-archer—in fact, she didn't even know if that was the right term, since such powers were so rare. Her father had procured tutors for her to help her control and hone her gifts, but he also didn't talk widely about them. Charlotte wasn't even sure if anyone in Clan McMahon knew about her ability. "What do you mean?" She hated not knowing something that Stephanie clearly did.

With a falsely bright laugh, Stephanie gestured at the banquet behind them. "You know why everyone's here, don't you? Your father is trying to find a suitable husband for you. When you were playing with swords with your brother," she added, nose wrinkling up in disdain, "it was far more difficult, but now that you're settling in to life as a proper princess, several suitors have shown interest." Her smile was as sharp and lethal as any sword Charlotte had ever wielded. "Randall seems to be the most favoured candidate, though. Then again, your father always did have a soft spot for him. Why, he's practically like Ric's son." With that parting jab, Stephanie sauntered off, merging with the festive crowd before Charlotte could react.

Fervently hoping that her father wasn't talking to Randall, Charlotte surged through the crowd as best she could, murmuring apologies and promises for dances that would never come to pass, at least not if she had her way. "Father," she said at last, gripping his arm tight enough to get his attention. Whenever King Ric was the centre of attention, it could be almost impossible to tear him away. "May I speak with you in private?"

"Charlotte! The lady of the hour!" Ric sounded like he had finished a barrel of wine all on his own. "Hello, sweetheart. Let me introduce Theodore—" Ric wobbled on his feet and if Charlotte hadn't been at his side, he likely would have fallen in a drunken heap.

"A pleasure," Charlotte murmured, trying to get the politeness out of the way. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I really must speak with my father in private. I'll return him to you as quickly as I can." Then she steered her father through the milling crowd, deflecting questions with a gentle smile. On the outside, she was every inch a regal princess, but it had never felt more like a facade.

Ric looked around in confusion when Charlotte stopped in a darkened hall. They could see the banquet through an open door, as if a framed portrait had come to life. "What . . . what are doing here?" Ric slurred. "The party's in there. . . ." He tried to move past his daughter to return to the feast, but Charlotte stopped him easily. "Charlotte, those are our guests—"

"Are they?" Charlotte looked for her stepmother—her second one, and likely not the last—but couldn't see her. "I think they're _your_ guests more than mine, Father." She hesitated for a moment, unsure how to word the next bit. She certainly wasn't averse to getting Stephanie in trouble, but she also wanted to see how much information she could get out of her father. How much she could trust any of it in his current state was another story. "While I was mingling, I heard several people say that you were trying to find me a husband."

Ric's eyes were glassy and wide. "Of course I am, sweetheart! I want you to be happy, to have a kingdom of your own someday!" He seemed to sober up somewhat as he added, "I know you always wanted to fight alongside Reid, but this will be a better life for you."

"I can still fight," Charlotte protested, letting go of her father's arm at last. The stench of wine on him was starting to make her dizzy, and she needed to keep her wits about her. "I don't need R—" She stopped herself quickly. There would never be a time when she wouldn't wish to have her brother at her side. Now that it wasn't possible, she had to do her best to both honour him and make herself happy. "I can fight on my own. I know I still have a lot to learn, but—"

"Charlotte." Ric's voice was still garbled, but his eyes had taken on a calculating sharpness. "You need to be reasonable. We need to continue the family's legacy. Now that Reid's gone, it falls to you and your other siblings. Do you think any worthwhile prince is going to want a wife who spends her days training for war?" He shook his head vigorously. "No. You need to be reasonable," he repeated, both to himself and to her. "So I invited all the best families. All the best princes. And they brought all their best gifts. Come see."

"Father—" But now it was Ric steering Charlotte, taking her by the arm and leading her down the hall to what used to be her mother's sewing room. Now it was an informal space where she and her sister often talked, safe from the prying eyes and ears of the castle's staff. All the treasures piled on the floor were a new addition, however. "Father, what is all this?"

Ric clapped with glee. "Gifts from your suitors!" He grabbed a handful of gems to show his daughter. "You see? They all want to prove that they're worthy of you!"

Charlotte walked around the small hoard and felt her heart shrink a bit. She knew the laws of the land well enough to know that, strictly speaking, her father didn't require her consent at all; the marriage might be between her and some warrior prince, but it was ultimately a contract between that prince's family and her father. That he was giving her any say was a courtesy—one that could be revoked at any time, for any reason. All of the gifts were lovely, even if some were uninspired. There was a wooden carving that caught her eye, though, likely because it reminded her of Reid's war horse, Stormchaser. "What's that?" she asked, going over to it.

The redness in Ric's face could have been a blush or simply an effect of the wine. "Ah, that's not one of the treasures. It was supposed to be a secret, but since you've seen it. . . ." He held up the carving to her, pointing out the delicate work. "It's going to be from me," he said proudly. "Bigger, of course. A figurehead for your ship, when you're wed. It's already being made; the carver brought me this so I could see what it will look like."

"It's beautiful." The memory of Reid riding Stormchaser, laughing as Charlotte sent winds either to hinder or help him, made her wistful. Then a glint caught her eye and she noticed a cluster of swords. _Finally,_ she thought. _A man with some taste!_ Anyone with enough wealth could acquire gems, but a finely wrought sword was a treasure indeed. "And these?" she asked, moving a small coffer of jewellery aside to grab one of the swords. 

Ric sidled up to her, clearly pleased something in the offerings had caught her fancy. "Those are from Randall of Clan Orton. He's heard of your sword prowess and thought you might want to try the craftsmanship from his homeland."

Charlotte paused with one hand on the hilt. Even from such a slight touch, she could tell it was a quality piece. The best craftsmanship in the world, however, couldn't eclipse Randall's reputation. "I'm sure they're excellent quality," she said at last, letting the sword settle back against the others. When she turned away from her father, she subtly wiped her hand against her dress as she headed back to the door. It was one thing for Stephanie to mention Randall, but hearing Ric speak so highly of him was quite another. "We should be getting back to our guests. You can hardly expect them to marry a princess they've barely seen—"

She was almost at the doorway leading back into the banquet when Ric caught up to her. "Charlotte, wait. Just think about it. Imagine Clan Orton united with the Flairs! What a legacy you and Randall could weave together! Your children would be impossible to defeat in battle and our families would be forever linked."

The thought of bearing Randall's children made Charlotte glad she hadn't any copious amounts of wine after all. "It certainly would be a legacy," she said weakly. To her ears, it sounded like Ric had already chosen and was simply hoping for her approval as a formality.

"Charlotte, sweetheart. . . ." Ric wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "If Randall doesn't appeal to you, we'll find someone else. And there's always Hunter."

"What?" Charlotte reared back from her father. Glancing out at the banquet, she could see Princess Stephanie clinging to Hunter's arm as if it were a priceless treasure. The two were not yet wed, but King Vincent seemed to approve, much to the surprise of many; most of their peers assumed he would want a more mannerly, proper prince for his only daughter, not some brutal warrior. "He's betrothed to the McMahon princess."

Ric gave a simple shrug. "They're marrying at the next moon, but we both know how much that means. You know Hunter's fond of you. In some ways, such an arrangement might be better for you. You would have more freedom and be able to practice your sword skills. . . ."

Charlotte knew that it was common in some places for high-ranking men to have more than one wife, but she doubted Stephanie would approve of such an arrangement. _Stephanie would even give me my own sword—as she ran it through my heart,_ she thought. Barely a second later, Stephanie's icy gaze flicked her way. "I don't think it would work," she murmured softly. Surely Stephanie hadn't been able to hear their distant conversation over the din of the banquet, had she?

Following his daughter's gaze, Ric pulled Charlotte back a little further. "Stephanie wouldn't need to know. We would just say I'm sending you to live with their clan as a gesture of good faith. Shane's marriage could always fall apart, after all, but then you would need to have a child with him to join the bloodlines. You and Hunter, though—"

"No." Charlotte knew she had little say in the matter, but she would be adamant about that point. She would sooner marry Randall than be stuck between Stephanie and Hunter. 

"There's Theodore too; he comes from a good line." Now that he had figured he had Charlotte's interest, Ric started listing off names. "And Cody. The Von Erichs too: they've been out of the fold for a while, but they're still highly regarded. And then there's all the sons from the islands—"

"Father." Charlotte stopped him before they could re-enter the banquet hall. "This is an enormous decision. I know that and I respect that, and I'm so grateful that you're giving me a part in it." She figured a little pleading couldn't hurt. "But marrying, starting a new legacy—that's something that demands careful consideration. I need some time to ponder it all." She was desperately trying to think in that very moment, trying to find a different solution. "I don't want to be swayed by offerings," she added slowly. "Fortune now doesn't always equal fortune later."

Ric nodded appreciatively. He hadn't imparted a lot of lessons to his children, but he had definitely made sure they knew that they couldn't rest on their laurels. "That's true. But all of these men have good families behind them, Charlotte. Strong families that have stood the test of time. Any one of them would be a good husband for you."

"I need some time to think," Charlotte repeated, calling a small draft to her to help her catch her breath. "And I would also like some space, so my thoughts will be clear and impartial." She gestured out at the banquet. Randall was certainly one of the more handsome suitors there, but she knew that beautiful exteriors often hid inner wretchedness. "Perhaps I could go visit Paige for a few weeks. She's well known for speaking her mind," she pointed out, "so she would be a valuable confidant in this regard."

Ric was too inebriated to stop himself from grimacing. "Paige? Charlotte, you know the reputation she has. It's almost worse than mine, and she's a third my age."

 _And that wouldn't stop you from marrying her if you could,_ Charlotte thought darkly. She fully expected to return to the castle one day and discover that Ric had married a woman younger than any of his children. "She is outspoken in a place where it is difficult for women to be so," she countered, "and such behaviour is rarely appreciated in its time. I'm sure most of what we hear of her . . . exploits is merely rumour, Father. In my times at her castle, I've never witnessed nearly half the debauchery she's accused of." She didn't add that she hadn't seen it because she made a point of retiring before the true revels began, and she often left in order to partake in some rowdy fun of her own, simply on a more intimate basis.

"Your highness." One of the attendants scurried up to the door frame but no further, keeping his eyes downcast. "The guests are starting to ask about you."

Ric nodded absently. "I will be returning soon. Please arrange for more wine." Once the attendant had bowed and left to carry out his orders, Ric held Charlotte's hands and sighed. "I know this is hard without Reid. If he were here, you could talk to him; you trusted his judgement."

 _And you trusted his,_ Charlotte thought bitterly. Reid would never even suggest she get entangled with the likes of Hunter, not when Clan McMahon was involved. "He's with us always," she replied. "I will always do my best to make him proud."

"I know you will, sweetheart. I know you will." Ric moved forward to hug her and sighed. "Go see Paige if you think it will help. Take some retainers with you for the journey, but don't be gone too long. Thinking too much can be just as bad as not thinking enough."

That was another of her father's pearls of wisdom, one he rarely followed himself; Charlotte couldn't think of anyone who would accuse Ric of overthinking anything. If not for savvy alliances, Clan Flair likely would have fallen into ruin years ago. _A marriage is important,_ she thought grimly, even though it made the bond feel more like a transaction than a relationship. She had known from a young age what would be expected of her, but she had always thought Reid would be there at her side, advising her and making sure she made the best match possible. "Thank you, Father." She kissed his cheek, the action giving her pause; once upon a time, she would have had to go on tiptoe to do that, and now she had to lean down. It was yet another stark reminder that one day her father would no longer be there and she would be responsible, at least in part, for Clan Flair's fortune and longevity. "I'll go tell the retainers. I'd like to take Dana," she said, "and two others."

But Ric was already wading back into the party, accepting a glass of wine from an attendant as he merged effortlessly into a conversation about crops dying in the northern lands. "Take them where?" The voice was slow and menacing, seeming to slither into her ears, and Charlotte glanced over to see Randall leaning against the doorway.

Charlotte's mind was spinning. How long had he been there? How much had he overheard? She thought she had seen him in the middle of the gathering when she was asking for leave to go see Paige, but several of the princes of his generation had a similar look, all sharp edges to match their swords—and their tempers. _Please let him not have heard anything about Hunter and Stephanie,_ she thought, pleading with any spirit or deity who might be swayed. It was bad enough that Ric was even entertaining the thought of her being part of Hunter breaking his future wedding vows, but if anyone else had heard him, it would be disastrous, almost akin to treason. Hunter might not have been King Vincent's first choice for his only daughter, but now that he would be considered part of Clan McMahon, that meant Hunter was privy to all the power and privileges that came with the name, which included swift and severe vengeance. "To England," she replied smoothly, squaring her shoulders. Just because Randall had startled her didn't mean she had to let him have the advantage. "My father has presented several promising suits to me and I want some quiet and distance to consider them all."

"Considering suits." Randall nodded slowly, and Charlotte had to summon a small breeze to banish the slimy feeling on the back of her neck. "I was at Paige's castle one time when you were there. You weren't very quiet when you were considering the suits of some of her men, as I recall."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. Of course he would be the one to notice her sneaking away with a dashing knight or visiting prince. There was nothing wrong with it, strictly speaking, but some prospective husbands would surely frown on too many dalliances, even though most had enjoyed plenty of their own. "That was some years ago," she replied airily, backing up a bit so she could move past him without brushing up against him. "I've matured since then, as I'm sure you have."

"Hm." Randall rubbed his jaw absently, making Charlotte wonder if she had made a fist of air without meaning to. "What did you think of your swords?"

"They looked well made and they're a fine gift." Charlotte nodded her head in acknowledgement. She might not care for Randall, but manners were the language of the evening; if the other suitors saw her treating Randall poorly, it might taint their view of her in kind. "But there are as many gifts as there are suitors," she added, "and I need to be able to give them all due consideration. England has been a trusted ally of Clan Flair for many years and since none of my suitors are from there, it will be a neutral place for me to think."

Randall smirked as he pushed away from the wall, moving to the doorway first and blocking it. "Just remember that you aren't the only princess around with a legacy, Charlotte."

Charlotte didn't mean to laugh, but it came out anyway, rough and hard-edged. "And who else do you have your eye on, Randall? Natalya? Tessa? We all talk, you know." They weren't her closest friends, but she would have to send word to them that Randall was dangerous.

"Another thing to remember, Charlotte? I can talk too." Since his back was to the light, Randall looked like nothing more than a silhouette, a glint of cruel eyes, and a predatory grin. "And more than that, I know how to listen. Just something to add to your list of _considerations_." Then, with a soft snort, he turned and retreated back into the banquet like a drop of water into a puddle, there and then gone, merged completely.

Shaken, Charlotte took shortcuts through the servants' corridors until she made her way up to her sleeping chambers. Warning Tessa and Natalya would be important, but also something that could be done when she was on her way. She would have to be prepared for anything on her journey—including potential attacks from Randall, or more correctly Randall's men—but she would also have to keep up the appearance of a princess pondering her upcoming marriage. That meant dresses, perhaps a few jewels from the hoard of gifts. But she would need riding clothes as well, and there was no way she was leaving without a sword, not after Randall's subtle barbs. 

"Charlotte?" The suddenness of the voice made her jump, nearly nicking herself on the small dagger she was checking, but it was only Dana at her door. "Your father's looking for you. He wants to start the formal introductions." Then Dana noticed that Charlotte's bed was covered in dresses, riding pants, and blades. "What's going on? Are you running away?"

 _Yes._ Sometimes Charlotte could forget just how astute Dana was. But it wasn't a full retreat, not just yet; perhaps one of the suitors would be pleasant enough. In her mind, Charlotte could imagine Reid mocking her; he always told her to hold out for the best, to aim for the best, to _be_ the best. He wouldn't want her to settle for an acceptable husband just to avoid a loathsome one. "No. I'm going to England for a few weeks so I can consider my options in peace."

"Options," Dana echoed. "To hear your father, there's really only one contender and that's Randall." She grimaced slightly as Charlotte reluctantly followed her back to the banquet hall. "I'm guessing you don't feel the same way."

"No." Charlotte paused before continuing. She was never quite sure how much to share with Dana or any of her retinue. Their immediate loyalty was to her, but ultimately they reported to her father. As much as she would have loved to confide in Dana, she didn't dare. "No, not quite. Please find the scribe and let him know I will require his services tomorrow." That was another risk, but the scribe hadn't betrayed her yet and she hoped that would continue. Trying to bolster her spirits before she rejoined the banquet, she turned to Dana and smiled. "I would like you to accompany me to England. I don't think you've been there yet, have you?"

Dana shook her head shyly. "I have not, and I would be honoured, Princess." Charlotte had told her countless times to address her only by name, but she tended to slip when she was flustered.

"Excellent. We'll be setting out tomorrow." Charlotte's smile grew warmer as she added, "I think you'll like it there. The scenery is beautiful and if there's still a handsome guard named Peter, his company is enjoyable as well." She laughed when Dana blushed, but it was bittersweet. Her life would change completely when she was wed, and her retinue was one of many things she would miss the most.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bayley! Have you been out here all night?" Bayley heard her mother's voice calling out across the farm, just like she had heard her calling her name several times before. "Bayley!"

"I'm fine." Reluctantly, Bayley started to stir. She had been out in the fields all night long, sprawled on the ground. She had even taken off all her clothes and stretched herself naked across the dirt, hoping more contact would help her talk to the earth, draw forth its bounty. All she got for her efforts was a chill and itchy shoulders. Now she was clothed again, but that was all that had changed. Her family's fields were still dry and lifeless, and even though her powers were getting stronger by the day, she felt weaker than ever. 

"Bayley!" Her mother was suddenly at her side, throwing a thick blanket over her. "You can't stay out here all night! Not alone, at least. The Skull King's men have been spotted to the south," she said, sitting beside her daughter. "And you know . . . you know how interested he is in magic. It's not safe for you to be out here by yourself." She tucked the edges of the blanket around Bayley when she refused to get up. Bayley didn't know much about the Skull King, to be honest, mostly because she had been keeping to herself, hoping not to make things worse for her mother and stepfather. 

"And it's useless. It's not working." Bayley's voice was as flat and lifeless as their crops, but she moved over enough to rest her head on her mother's knee. "I'm sorry. I don't understand why I can fix everyone else's farms but ours." When her powers first started developing in her youth, they seemed to have no affect on her family's holdings either way. She could bless her neighbours' lands, however, which made her family popular. As her powers grew, however, it seemed to drain the land, as if taking energy to replenish her, and no amount of effort could restore her family's farm. 

Things fell out of her life gradually. First her father left them, unable to cope with the failure of the farm along with the displeasure of his neighbours. Then the neighbours and other villagers started to complain—quietly at first, and only amongst themselves, but as their crops grew sparser, their words and actions grew bolder. Bayley was surprised her mother had been able to find another husband who was willing to endure such scrutiny, but her stepfather was a kind, understanding man who took Bayley's strange powers in stride. All the love and consideration in the world couldn't keep their farm going, however, and now they they were facing some very tough choices. "Oh, Bayley," her mother sighed, stroking her hair. "I know you're trying. I do. I've seen how brave you are, how strong. We've all seen what you can do—"

"But why can't I do it _here_?" Bayley squeezed her eyes shut. Dawn was creeping across the vast sky and the coming of the light simply meant another night of failure. "Why can't I do it where it matters the most?"

"Bayley." Her mother's voice took on a chiding tone. "All the villages are important. We're all just people, doing our best to survive and feed our families."

"I know, but. . . ." Bayley sat up at last, wearing the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. She was surprised they had any good woollen blankets left anymore: once the crops started failing, her mother had started selling off anything they could part with and supplementing their now-meagre income with her handicraft skills. Her stepfather helped on neighbours' farms when he could, but such jobs were getting harder to come by since many people associated him with Bayley and were worried that he would bring her perceived curse along with him. "You always told me this was a gift." She let a handful of dusty dirt sift through her fingers, concentrating on it with all her might, but it remained resolutely dry. "But aren't gifts supposed to be shared with the people you love the most? Why can I go to a village down the road and give them crops that yield a bounty all year long, but I can't help you?"

Wrapping her arms around her daughter, Bayley's mother was quiet for a while, rocking back and forth. "Bayley, you know you're my heart," she began, "and all I've ever wanted for you is happiness. Perhaps that joy lies elsewhere. You need to follow _your_ heart."

Bayley stiffened a bit, staring down at the ground that defied her at every turn. "What are you saying?"

"Well, if your gift only works elsewhere, far from home," her mother pointed out, "then perhaps that's where you're meant to be: where you can help people, where your gifts will be appreciated. Maybe you'll even meet others like you."

Bayley laughed at that, though she knew her mother meant well. In all her travels to other villages, testing the range of her powers, she had never come across anyone who could do what she did. Since no one could tell her otherwise, she decided to call herself an earth-etcher, but she kept the name to herself, especially now. "I've never wanted to cause you trouble," she said softly, kissing her mother's cheek. "If you want me to leave, you just have to say so."

Her mother's eyes went wide and teary. "Bayley! That's not what I mean at all. You have a gift, a wonderful gift, and if it's not working here, perhaps that's a sign from the gods that here is not where you're meant to be. The world is wide and vast, and you deserve to see it all." She cupped Bayley's face and looked at her daughter adoringly. "You need to do this for _you_. Don't worry about me and your stepfather; we'll make do. You can go searching, and when the other villages find out what you can do, you'll surely be able to pay your way across the land. Perhaps you can even hire a spot on one of the ships and sail to one of the islands. I've heard they're rocky and inhospitable. If your power could transform them, imagine how many people would benefit! Is that not a blessing?"

It would be and Bayley knew it, but it didn't change the fact that her powers were worse than useless at home; they were actively damaging the farm. She had already done work in neighbouring villages, telling her mother it was her way of contributing to the family. It was also a way to gauge how much damage she had done to her family's lands by seeing how well it recovered in her absence, if at all. Sometimes the changes were minimal, others not, and it always hurt when she could see and feel the earth withering beneath her feet upon her return. "But I'll have no one. . . ."

"My heart, you'll have me. Always. And your stepfather too. We aren't going anywhere. You're always welcome here, Bayley." Her mother embraced her tightly, her tears soaking into Bayley's rumpled hair. "Perhaps the connection between you and the farm simply needs some time to rebuild. You draw from it, but it also draws from you. When you go to new villages, new lands, it's fresh energy; don't forget that. Some time away could do as much good for you as for the farm, if not more."

Countless fears flashed through Bayley's mind. What if the farm and the neighbouring lands never recovered and the locals held her mother and stepfather accountable? What if the same drought of energy happened to her elsewhere? What if her gift had outlived its usefulness and been warped into a curse? "I'll miss you," Bayley said, voice small and broken. In some ways, the decision had already been made months ago, maybe even years, but meeting it face to face was something else entirely. Deep in her heart, she knew she wasn't going to be like other women in the village, marrying someone local and moving to a farm just down the path or in the next village. She didn't like to dwell on the premonition, but it had been as constant as her shadow, and now it was finally coming to pass; the least she could do would be to give it a chance. "I'll miss you both so much. . . ."

"And we'll miss you." Her stepfather approached from the other side, sitting in the dry, dead grass and hugging both women. "But our love goes wherever you go."

"And mine stays with you, wherever you are," Bayley replied, sniffling. Once the sun was fully risen, all three of them stood and made their way back to the house. She insisted on completing her morning duties, knowing it would be the last time in weeks—probably months, maybe even years or forever—that she would tend the sheep and the cows and the chickens. She lingered over every task, appreciating the simplicity and intricacy in equal measures, the bustle of life around her. Once she was on the road, she would have no company but her own until she reached a village or farm. Each night would require a place to sleep; every day would demand water, food, and the work that would provide them. 

By the time she entered the house, her mother was in the kitchen cooking and her stepfather summoned her. "I would be honoured if you would wear this on your journey," he said, tears darkening his eyes as he held out a simple necklace.

It was one Bayley knew well. She had made it for him years ago, when she was still a child. It was only a simple leather rope with a few rocks and shells strung along it, their holes made by focussing her power, but he had accepted it with great solemnity, as if the king himself had bestowed it upon him. She couldn't remember ever seeing him without it since that day. "Father, I can't. You know I can't."

"I can't go with you," her stepfather explained, embracing her. "My place is here, with your mother. So this will go in my stead, and hopefully keep you safe." He turned her around gently and fastened the necklace for her.

Bayley's tears started flowing freely and she wiped them away with the heels of her hands. "Only if you accept it back when I return. I'll even add a few new stones," she added with a shaky smile, "since my skills have improved since I made it."

"Your powers continue to amaze me," he told her as they started towards the kitchen, "as does your control over them. But your kindness will always be your biggest strength. Don't lose sight of that."

It was the last meal she would take with her mother and stepfather for weeks, months, years, but Bayley didn't want to dwell on that. She chose instead to focus on the small things in the moment: the rich, hearty smells of her mother's cooking; the comfortable weight of her stepfather's necklace around her neck; all the familiar sights and sounds of the only home she had ever known. Now the whole world was going to be her home—the sky her roof, the ground her floor—and she had to learn its rhythms and ways. "Whenever I'm in a village," she promised, "I'll ask if anyone is heading this way so I can send you a message. And you . . . you could do the same. I think I'll head west first."

Her mother frowned a bit. "Why not north, dear? The further you can get from the Skull King, the better. Though I imagine a man of his reach has people everywhere."

"And that's where all the ships are," her stepfather pointed out. "You've always wanted to see the sea. I remember us talking about it."

Bayley smiled at the memory of her and her stepfather toiling in the fields—at first their own and, when when their crops became unsalvageable, those of whoever would hire them—talking about the world beyond their village, even a world beyond the sea. _Maybe one day I can take them there,_ she thought. If she had a goal to work towards, perhaps leaving her family behind wouldn't be so hard: they were part of the goal, the dream, so they would be with her every step of the way. "I suppose I could go north first and then west," she agreed. "Maybe go in a circle and make my way back here."

It was unlikely and they all knew it, but all three of them clung to hope. Bayley finished eating quickly and went to her room to pack a small bag for her travels. She was so used to her powers providing her with most of what she needed that she didn't have much to bring; there was only so much food she could bring that wouldn't spoil, and clothes could be washed and mended and bartered for. It was going to be an existence without reassurances, good or bad, and she had to learn to be adaptable. Thus she got ready to depart right away; rather than delaying the inevitable and wallowing in sorrow, she could seize the unpredictable energy of the moment and perhaps even reach a village or hospitable farm—definitely not one of her neighbours'—before darkness fell. Her stepfather insisted she take as many water bottles as she could carry comfortably, and her mother tucked some extra coins in her bag when she thought Bayley wasn't looking.

"Stay here," she urged her mother and stepfather when they went to walk her to the edge of the farm. "It will be easier this way." In truth, Bayley was worried that she might lose her resolve if she stayed too long, if too many tears were shed, so she hugged them both quickly, told them she loved them, and headed out the door. 

The sun greeted her warmly as always, making Bayley grateful for the extra water. It weighed her down a bit at the beginning, but the longer she walked, the more she realized the seriousness of her situation. As she passed neighbouring farms, the people turned their backs to her, trying in vein to block their crops from her sight. It wasn't until around mid-afternoon that she reached more neutral lands. Even though her feet were sore and her legs were tired, she stopped to help an elderly woman carry an armload of firewood back to her son's farm. "Thank you, child. The roads seem longer than they used to be." Eyeing Bayley's bag over her shoulder, she added, "Are you leaving home or on your way back?"

"Leaving," Bayley replied. "Looking for work and my way." She didn't know how much the older woman might have heard about a young woman with the power to raise or raze crops, so she didn't add anything about being an earth-etcher.

"It would be my son's decision, of course," the woman said, "but there's always work to be done at the farm. You're not looking to stay on, though, I'm guessing. You have the look of someone with a goal."

It was a simple enough statement, but the further Bayley got from home, the less certain she became. What would helping crops in another town prove or refute? It could be the result of anything from the weather to the quality of the soil to the depth at which the seeds were planted. "A day or two at most," she admitted, knowing she shouldn't throw away such a generous offer. Hers was a goal that couldn't be reached by staying in one place, though, and she had to keep that in mind. "But I would be happy to help in exchange for food and lodging. I grew up on a farm, so I'm used to hard work."

"Aren't we all? The Skull King ran my family out of our lands, so we were grateful to find another farm," the woman said, "even if the land this far north is much harder to work. It took us two cycles to even start growing anything."

Bayley tried not to flinch. Had her powers really drained that much from the earth that the stain of her presence had spread this far? She had thought only the farms immediately neighbouring her family's were afflicted, but this was a half-day's walk away. Thinking back, she realized most of the farms she had passed seemed to be struggling. "What were your homelands like?" She asked in part to distract the older woman, but also out of curiosity. Bayley had never been much many than a day or two's ride away from her family farm, so the wider world was a mystery to her.

The woman was so happy to talk about where she had grown up that she almost walked completely past her home. A woman slightly older than Bayley waved her down with a laugh and met them at the fence. "Thank you for helping her. I keep telling her she doesn't have to go so far," the woman insisted, "but she always wants to help."

Bayley set down the firewood and greeted the other woman. "Hello. She was saying you might have need of workers. My name is Bayley. I grew up on a farm," she was quick to add, "so I should be able to help."

"Hilda," the woman replied, opening the gate. "We can't offer much more than food and a bed at the moment, I'm afraid, but judging from your pack, you have a destination in mind."

Nodding, Bayley crouched to pick up the firewood again. "A night or two of food and lodging would be welcome. My family farm has sheep, cows, and chickens, but I've tended pigs as well." Then she pointed to a small but growing gap in the farm's fence. "And I can likely mend that for you."

"If you can do that," Hilda laughed, "you can have our bed, and my husband and I will sleep in the barn. I haven't been able to get the rocks to stay in place at all."

It was as good a test as any, so Bayley nodded. "Where shall I put the wood? Then I'll get to work on your fence." 

Hilda gestured to a wood pile near the barn. "Anywhere there is fine. But please, have something to drink and eat first. It looks like you've been on the road all day." She led her mother-in-law and Bayley into the house and poured them something to drink, asking Bayley polite but pointed questions. Bayley didn't take offence: with desperation sweeping through the land, everyone was being more cautious about who they let stay on their property. 

When her husband returned home, Hilda stood and gestured to Bayley. "She's looking for a couple days of work," she explained when he looked cross at having a stranger in his home, "and can help with the animals and the crops."

"And the fence," Bayley reminded her. "I can do that right now, if you like, while the sun is still in our favour." She stood and greeted Hilda's husband. "I ask for food and lodging, nothing more. I'm on my way north, so I'm not looking for anything permanent."

That seemed to appease him, and he nodded in agreement, heading for the door. "Let's go then." If he had meant it to be a challenge of either her resolve or her skills, Bayley was up for both. She followed him out to the far fence line where she had noticed the troublesome gap. "I've tried mending it myself many times," he insisted, shooting a look back at the house. 'But it always starts to droop before the end of the day."

From the tone of his voice, Bayley guessed it was a point of contention between him and his wife. "I don't think the problem is the wood," she offered, crouching down. "It's the placement of the pole." When she used her powers, it wasn't visible to others, but she was still careful to partially shield her hands as she twisted the loose pole and wedged it deeper in the ground, coaxing the earth to hold it steady and firm. For appearance's sake, she rearranged some of the cross pieces as well. "We can check it again after you've eaten to see how it's holding up."

He held her to that and was pleasantly surprised when the fence seemed stronger than ever. "If you can do all your work so well," he replied in an amazed voice, "I would gladly hire you."

_I doubt it,_ Bayley thought. She had walked a considerable way, but she was still relatively close to home, and it wouldn't take word long to reach the household about who Bayley was and what she had done. "If I return this way," she hedged, "I will remember your family's hospitality and stop in to see how I can help."

"We appreciate any help we can get." Turning his back to the now-fixed fence, he gestured at his humble farm. It wasn't in as dire a state as Bayley's family's land, but it was clearly struggling as well.

By then, the sun was starting to set, so Bayley crouched down and ran her fingers through the soil. She could still feel sparks of life within it, which gave her hope. "Work is best done in the light," she said as she straightened up. "When we come out in the morning to check the fence, we can look at the land."

The fence had endured overnight, much to Bayley's relief, so she bolstered the other poles as well. Hilda insisted on feeding her husband and Bayley many small meals throughout the day as they worked, and Bayley was so glad that the land was responding to her that she almost cried. _No salt in the soil_ , she told herself as she wiped sweat off her face. The steady rhythm of honest work helped her rise out of her melancholy and focus only on the moment as she fed animals, fixed walls, and helped tend the crops. "You're a wonder," Hilda declared as Bayley came in for the final meal of the day, exhausted but happily so. Her muscles ached pleasantly, but more than that, her power seemed to be finding a rhythm again. She hadn't wanted to try waking the crops too much or too soon, but gentle encouragement throughout the day—augmented with real-world attention so the family wouldn't get suspicious—was helping to revive the fields. "Are you sure you can't stay? We have room for you, and the animals have taken well to you, and even my mother-in-law enjoys your presence." The way she said it made Bayley think it was a rare occurrence.

"I appreciate the offer," Bayley replied with the utmost honesty, "but I need to be on my way. As I told your husband, if my journey brings me past your farm again, I would be honoured to stop in and help."

"And we would be honoured to have you," Hilda smiled, "work or no work. May your travels be blessed, your goals met, and your journey fulfilling."

The warm wishes reminded Bayley so much of her mother that she almost cried. Instead, she waited until the family was asleep to creep outside, murmuring to the crops as she walked down the rows. "Grow fast, grow well. Give your people a good harvest this year and the next and for many years to come." Under the dark sky, Bayley almost thought she saw a film of magic dripping from her hands.

She couldn't handle another emotional farewell, not after leaving her family so soon, so Bayley packed up halfway through her second night at the farm and snuck away. Earlier that day she had gone to get firewood and had noticed a cozy cluster of trees not far from the river. It didn't seem to be frequented by any animals larger than rabbits, so it would be a safe enough place to spend a night, and in a way she would welcome the isolation and solitude. It would be far too easy to stay at a farm like Hilda's, weaving a new life story for herself and losing herself in her work—at least until her magic turned against her once more. She couldn't bring that sort of calamity down on anyone else; it was bad enough that it had stricken her family, the two people who had supported her no matter what.

As Bayley prepared her makeshift camp by the welcoming trees, she glanced towards the river and thought she glimpsed water flowing _up_ a rock, not down. _It's been a long day,_ she told herself, shutting her eyes. _Just one of many to come._ It was enough to make anyone doubt what they had seen or heard. At least she knew one thing for certain: she had helped one farm start its journey to recovery, but there were no guarantees and still so much more to prove. That journey would start tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

"And just what is my lovely sister up to now, I wonder?" Finn's voice followed Bex into the forest, making her wonder how he had caught up with her so quickly. She thought she had got an early enough start that she would have been able to avoid the tenacious prince, but Finn was always full of surprises. She set down the log she was trying to move and turned to face him, making him laugh. "Oh, Becca, you wondrous idiot. You look like you're turning into a tree."

Bex tried to run a hand through her hair to push it back, but her fingers quickly encountered a tangle. When she shook her head vigorously, everything from leaves to twigs to a feather fell out, drifting slowly to the forest floor. "We all know how likely that is, princeling."

Finn leaned up against a tree and smiled at her, his gaze sparkling as always but also wistful. "Wishful thinking, I suppose, hoping you'd grow some damn roots and stay where you are."

"Big words," Bex countered, dusting her hands off on her pants and sitting on her log, "coming from a prince who spent more time on a ship last year than in his homeland."

"Not by choice and you know it." Finn sat beside her and shook her knee. "I'm going to miss you. I always miss you. You know that. That big rambling castle isn't home without you in it." He wrapped an arm around Bex's shoulders and knocked the log beneath them with his foot. "So what's this for?"

Bex sighed. Finn was going to find out eventually, of course, and as the prince, he had every right to ask—and to command her to stop. He would do the former quite happily, but she liked to think he wouldn't issue an order to her unless he had no other alternative. They had been friends for years and she had trained with him to be a warrior, but she considered him kin just as much as her blood family was. "I want to go to England again. Queen Paige always said I was welcome any time the waves would bring me to her and . . . I need to _move_ , Fergal." She normally only used his formal name when she was trying to tease him, but just then she was trying to appeal to all aspects of him: the prince, the fellow warrior, the brother, the friend.

"Bex, please think about what you're doing, what you're saying." Finn cradled her head to his shoulder and kissed her forehead. "I know Paige and her mother trained you well, and I'm grateful for everything they taught you. I'm glad they saw the fire inside you and rather than try to douse it, they took it for the beacon that it is. But you also need to be careful. You fought so hard to recover from your injuries. For whatever reason—the nature of her injury, the whims of the gods—Paige wasn't so fortunate, and we both know that eats at her. Don't let her draw you into harm's path, Bex."

Giving Finn a light jab to the chin, Bex sat back. "I'm not a fool, Finn. Well, not a complete fool. I remember what it was like, and I have no desire to be back, wallowing in that darkness. But if I don't try again. . . ." Shaking her head, she stared off into the forest. As a fire-forger, it felt like constantly tempting fate, living so close to so many trees, but she knew she needed the self-discipline. There were days when it was so tempting to just let everything burn down to ashes, especially back when she thought she would never be able to enter battle again. Now that she had fought her way back, she had every intention of staying there. "I need to know, Finn. One way or the other, I need to know."

The prince's voice took on a hint of a whine. "And why can't you know _here_ , Becca?" 

Along with her family, he was one of the few people allowed to call her _Becca_. On the whole she preferred _Bex_ —it sounded sharp and decisive, like an axe falling—but _Becca_ sounded different coming from the people she held most dear. When she heard that name, it usually meant she was going to be scolded, but at least it was by someone she loved. "I'll never grow if I stay," Bex answered softly. She hated that it was true, but she couldn't deny it. Of all the foes she had fought over her still-young life, complacency was the most insidious, the most lethal. "I'll just . . . stay and I'll always wonder what I could have done, and not knowing will make me miserable, and I'll take it out on everyone around me."

"That's not true." Finn reached over and started picking tree debris out of her hair. "There's plenty you could do here, Bex. You could be a guard or—"

"Or?" She barely gave him time to think of another position she might be suitable for. "While you get to travel the seas and take up the sword and do all the things we both love so dearly?"

Finn cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I _am_ going to be a king, so it's not exactly the same, I admit, but—"

Bex hopped to her feet and tugged Finn to his. "Precisely. But right now you're only a prince, Finn, not yet a king."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" He tried to sound regal and haughty, but he could never manage it very well around Bex. They were too close, too similar.

"It means," Bex answered, gesturing to the log, "that you can help. I'm taking logs down to the beach so I can build myself a ship."

Finn rolled his eyes but gamely picked up one end of the log, following Bex's lead. "We have plenty of ships," he reminded her, "and if you're just going to England for more training, I'm sure the king wouldn't begrudge you the use of one."

"I know, but I'd like my own, all the same." It wasn't that Bex didn't trust the king. He was a fair and just man, or at least as much as he could be while maintaining the throne. She simply didn't want to be beholden to anyone; she wanted the freedom to set sail when she chose, to add to the ship whenever and however she pleased. "When I can't sleep, I've been practising with some small ships—not even toys, really— late at night and—"

"I know." When Bex stopped suddenly, almost dropping her end of the log, Finn laughed. "I've seen your fires late at night on the beach. Don't worry: you haven't disturbed anyone."

Bex huffed and narrowed her eyes as they continued down the path, half tempted to bowl Finn over with the log. "Spying, were you?"

Finn shook his head. "Not spying. Looking out for my sister, I would say. And not every time. On the nights when I had spotted foreign ships at sea or knew we were expecting visitors, I would sneak down and make sure you were all right."

 _I shouldn't be mad,_ Bex thought as they stepped onto the chilly beach. She had already wrangled down a few logs, but it was admittedly easier and faster with Finn's assistance. _He does it because he cares._ His constant care and support was another thing she was guilty of taking for granted, and she would have to prepare herself to live without his help in England. "You could have said something," she replied gruffly, dropping her end of the log. "I would have appreciated the company." On most nights, that was true. After a while, the sound of the sea lapping at the shore could feel eerie and since she wasn't able to gain heat for herself from any fire she created, she definitely would have welcomed a bonfire.

"I'll remember that for the next time I see a beguiling little spark outside my window," Finn promised. "Or even better, you could exercise your manners and simply _ask me_." He ended with a teasing grin as he helped Bex reorder the logs she had collected.

"Manners are for kings and queens and princes and princesses," Bex teased, standing back to assess her woodpile. "And I am blessedly none of those things."

"You could be." Finn's voice was soft, almost lost in the waves, but from his expression, he knew Bex had heard him just fine.

Bex fussed over her collected wood, pretending to measure and assess it so she could have a few moments to collect her thoughts. It wasn't the first time someone had suggested they get married and it wouldn't be the last, but each mention still made things awkward between them for a while. They might have been closer than friends, closer than siblings, but there were still lines they hadn't crossed and didn't plan to, despite what others might have thought. "Finn—Fergal—I . . . I appreciate the thought, truly, but we both know I would be a horrible princess and an even worse queen."

Finn coughed, looking away for a moment. "You would learn. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for, Becca. And I want someone I trust by my side. Kingdoms have been built on far less than friendship, as you know."

"And all kingdoms require heirs." The implication made them both quiet for a moment, the gentle lapping of the sea at the shore like a second pulse in their ears. "Finn, you deserve better than that. This isn't the way to ask me to stay."

"Then what is?" Frustration broke through the hesitation in his voice at last. "I've tried reason. I've tried cajoling you. I've brought up your family, your love of your country, everything you hold dear. What else is there?"

 _What, indeed._ She had been to England before on multiple occasions, usually to train with Paige and her mother. Sometimes she didn't want to leave; other times she couldn't wait to return to Ireland. But those had all been planned trips with a definitive purpose in mind. This time it was nothing more than an urge, an inkling propelling her forward. She wished she could say it came to her in a dream or a vision, but it was simply a persistent, pervasive notion that her path was about to change forever and she needed to be in England for her new journey to begin. She had no idea if Paige would be a factor in it—England had many kingdoms, after all, most more conventional than Paige's—but she wouldn't know until she was there, and she doubted the Irish king would want her to take one of his ships without knowing where she was going or how long she planned to be away. "I don't know, Finn. I just know that I need to go. I need to try. Maybe I'll fail. I don't know what I'm really looking for. But at least if I try, then I'll know for sure. If I don't go, it will haunt me for the rest of my days." She could feel tears lurking in her eyes and she looked out to sea while she tried to blink them away. "So if I use my manners," she added in an overly haughty tone, "will you _please_ help me prepare the logs?"

"Look at those manners." Finn's tone was teasing, but his eyes were as watery as hers. "You're halfway to being a princess already." Letting out a long breath, he rolled his shoulders in preparation to work. Many princes, Irish and otherwise, were all too happy to let their underlings do all the toiling, but Finn was happiest when he was busy, involved with people and activities. "So what are we doing?"

Bex grinned. Now that they had moved away from the realm of emotional distress and awkward questions, she felt more at ease. "Cutting the logs using fire—but without burning them."

"Ah." Finn nodded sagely, glancing around Bex's makeshift building site. "We have wonderful tools that do something very similar. They're called axes." He gestured up the beach towards the path that led to the castle. "I'm sure we have several."

"You have fire axes? I might have to reconsider that proposal," Bex laughed, playing along. "I want to be able to do it on my own. Even when I get to England, my path take me somewhere alone. I need to be prepared to to take care of myself." Then she glanced up and down the coast. "May I show you something?" From an early age, as soon as she had cast her first spark, her father had taught her that her powers were not just trifles to be used for entertainment: her gift was also a responsibility, something she would have to guard and cultivate in equal measure. Finn was one of the few people who knew about her powers and being able to share her discoveries with him was always a relief, like setting down a heavy bundle after a long trek.

"Of course." Finn set on a nearby rock and eagerly watched. While he always enjoyed her displays of power, he never took them for granted like the king did. Bex had quickly learned not to inform the king of the strides she had made in terms of the scope of her power and her mastery of it, but she felt safe sharing her discoveries with Finn. "Will the ashes be blue again? Let me know in advance," he joked, "because it took me weeks to get the hue out of my skin."

The memory of that wayward experiment made Bex laugh so hard she lost her balance, tumbling to the chilly sand. She had been trying to find a way to set flames on the very tops of the waves, hoping they could guard Finn's ships when he was away. Her first attempt, though, resulted in flames that were as sticky as sap and as cold as ice, leaving ashes that clung to the skin. "It wasn't that bad," Bex countered. "It didn't look that different from woad."

Finn's chuckle was warm and indulgent. "Will the ashes be blue?" he repeated.

" _No._ And you wonder why you haven't found a suitable bride yet." Bex shook her head. "You're far too picky."

"Clearly not," Finn retorted, "if I was willing to marry you."

Bex tossed a stray shell at him, which he caught easily and lobbed back, starting the friends on an ever-escalating scuffle that ended only when Finn hoisted Bex over his shoulder and threatened to toss her into the sea. "Don't you want to see my experiment?" she wheedled, trying to squirm out of his grip. She liked the ocean well enough, but she wasn't dressed for being doused and the chill would stay with her all day long.

"I want my sister to stay here with me." Finn's tone and gaze were light, but they could both feel the raw honesty in the words. "But I suppose seeing some pretty sparks would be nice as well."

" _Pretty sparks_." Bex swatted at him as soon as he set her down on the sand, but he darted away easily. "I'll put some _pretty sparks_ in your saddle the next time you go out on a hunt and we'll see how funny you find them then." She pulled a small wooden ship, no larger than Finn's boot, out of a pile of wood debris. "This is what I've been practising on. You weren't supposed to see it."

Finn shot her a look of tender exasperation. "Bex, I'm not like my father. You know I wouldn't ask you to use your gifts for anything you weren't comfortable with."

Bex shut her eyes. It was hard enough trying to explain what she meant to someone who wasn't a fire-forger; admitting her failures was worse still. "That's not what I meant. I meant you shouldn't have been able to see it: I'm trying to cast flames that will guard a ship and block it from enemy sight."

"Ah." Finn's posture straightened into something more princely. "That would be a gift indeed."

"I know. And I can maintain it for a while, but as soon as the ship is too far away from me," Bex reported, "my control wanes. Watch." Holding the small replica ship in both hands, she conjured flames from her fingers and seemed to shape a protective layer of fire around the wood. Then she walked down to the water and set the ship in the retreating wave. She stepped back, making sure Finn was able to see where the ship was, and then cast the second half of the spell. "Do you see it?"

Holding a hand to his forehead to block out the sun, Finn nodded. "Yes, it's right . . . there?" He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "It was there," he insisted, pointing out to a cluster of rocks. "I was charting its progress compared to the rocks. . . ."

With a slightly satisfied smirk, Bex nodded. "Keep watching. Depending on the tides, it can be difficult to track."

After a while, Finn was going to give up, if only to spare his eyes the strain, but then he caught a glimpse of a spark. "There!" he exclaimed, pointing like an excited child spotting his father's ship returning to its home shore. "It's there, right?"

Bex nodded. "So the spell works, but it's hard to maintain. I suppose it would be fine for short distances or sneak attacks," she added, somewhat defeated. "Or if I'm aboard, perhaps. I haven't tried that yet."

Sensing her dismay, Finn embraced her. "We can try that before you leave for England," he promised. "I'm sure Sheamus or Finlay would be our spotter, and we don't have to worry about either of them telling anyone. For now, let's work on the logs. What exactly do you need them for?" He steered her back up the beach to her wood piles.

It was another idea, another experiment, and given the shaky success of the shield-fire, Bex was wondering if she should share another half-formed notion. _Finn might think I'm addled and lock me up so I can't go anywhere,_ she thought. Such an order would come more from the king than the prince, but the end result would be the same. "If I'm travelling on my own, I know I'll have to travel light. I won't be able to leave my boat somewhere and trust that it will still be there upon my return. So I've been working on a boat I can disassemble easily and hide. Of course, I would still require a cave or some other place to hide all the parts. . . ."

"Becca, Becca, always making things more difficult than they need to be." Finn ruffled her hair.

"I need to know I can do this on my own, Finn." Bex hated the whine in her voice, but this experiment was important to her, even more so than the shield-fire. If she could make her own way anywhere, then she could finally prove—if only to herself—what she was capable of.

Finn held her again, kissing her forehead. "I've never doubted you. Now we just need to make you have that faith in yourself." He sat on the sand and pulled Bex down with him. "Explain it to me. How does cutting wood with fire make a boat that will disassemble easily?"

"It doesn't, I suppose. Not directly." Bex sighed. He wasn't going to like the next bit. "Magic would hold the pieces together. My flames would, specifically, but—"

"Becca." He had never looked more like a weary brother. "Surely I don't have to tell you why trying to hold wood together _with fire_ is a bad plan."

Bex tried a hopeful smile, but she felt it waver on her lips. "It's magic fire, though."

Finn sighed, staring up at the sky as if beseeching the gods to help him with his wayward sister. "I have a proposal for you—not that kind," he added quickly, leaning back so Bex couldn't swat at him again. "I won't thwart you from pursuing . . . whatever it is you're following to England on the condition that you either take one of the king's boats or, if you still want to try your take-apart boat, it must be tested thoroughly before going out on the sea. And part of that means I go with you to ensure its safety."

Bex forced herself to consider her reply. On the surface, it was fair and reasonable, and her experiments would progress much more smoothly if she wasn't fighting Finn at every step. On the other hand, he was also a prince, destined to rule Ireland. If he was injured—or worse, lost at sea—because of her fire-boat, her fate would be either exile or death. It was his way of assuring her safety, she knew, because she would never let him venture out on a vessel she didn't feel was safe; she might put her own life at risk, but never his. "I suppose that's fair," she admitted grudgingly.

"It's more than fair. If you want to leave quicker," Finn suggested simply, "take one of my boats. But I need to know you'll be safe, Becca. You're half of my heart walking around, wielding swords and fire and frightening me to death. It's bad enough when you're close enough for me to stop; if you're in England—or even further—I'll worry about you with every breath, but I'll feel somewhat better if I think your boat is at least sea-worthy."

"Princes," Bex muttered loud enough for Finn to hear. "So demanding."

"There's always room in the dungeon," Finn replied cheerily, standing up again and facing the woodpile as if it were a troop of warriors awaiting instructions. "Obviously I cannot cut the wood using fire, so aside from staying out of burning range, how can I help?"

Bex rose slowly, looking all all the wood she had amassed. There was everything from twigs no thicker than her fingers to the large logs she had hauled down. Despite what Finn might have thought, she was being thorough. The only problem was that she was also impatient. The notion of going to England had caught her like a fish hook and it was pulling at her incessantly. What if there was someone she was supposed to meet and they were already on their way? Would they wait for her or would they simply press on, driven by their own fate? She couldn't risk waiting too long, but she couldn't bear leaving if she knew Finn was worrying too much. As prince, he didn't have as many responsibilities as the king, but he had enough. More than that, he had to prove himself worthy as well, and if people thought he was spending too much time and consideration on her, they might not think he was a good fit for the throne. That was one of the reasons she would never entertain a proposal from him, even if he made a genuine one. Finn truly deserved the throne, and if she was at his side as his consort—even if only in name—she would only drag him down. Their paths would be forever linked, but these were two voyages they couldn't take together.

"You can brace the log at the opposite end," she began, trying to plan things out in her mind. "Perhaps I should build some braces first. . . ."

Finn shook his head. "I want to see this 'cutting wood with fire' experiment," he insisted. "And as your prince—"

"As my prince, you can go back up to your castle and swan about," Bex replied, making a rude gesture in his direction. "If you're here as my friend, then make sure you give me a wide berth so I don't burn you accidentally."

He grinned at her, the warmth finally reaching his eyes. He might not have received the answer he truly wanted, but at least he had been able to make her compromise somewhat. "And if I'm here as your brother?" he asked, moving the log into a better position.

"If you're here as my brother," Bex grinned, "then I hope you came prepared to work, because I'm going to need a lot more logs if I want to build a whole boat."

Finn gestured to the log between them and smiled. "I'll need my sister's help for that. I don't think I could get many down here by myself."

"Good thing you have a strong sister then," Bex replied, meeting his gaze and matching his smile. Then she took a deep breath, focussed her flames, and drew her hand along the centre of the log's width. There was a sizzling sound, like food cooking over a campfire, and a few pops of overheated sap, and then the sturdy log split neatly in two, the freshly cut ends smoking slightly but otherwise unblemished. "Let's leave that cool while we go get another log."

As she and Finn trudged back into the forest, Bex could feel her new path starting to unfurl. She still wasn't sure where it was heading or even where it started, but she knew England and Paige had parts to play, so that would be her first stop—possibly the first of many.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's raining! Sasha, it's raining!" 

Sasha smiled as her brother came running over to her bed, shaking her awake. It had been raining for a while now and the sound had woken her up, but she had stayed in her bed, warm and cozy and appreciating the rhythm of the drops on the roof. Even rainwater called to her, and the scent of it seemed to open up her lungs, making her take deeper, longer breaths. Aside from rivers and lakes, rain showers were the closest she felt to her element in her landlocked homeland, but most of the year had been mired in droughts and she wasn't always able to visit the nearest bodies of water because her brother often couldn't make the journey. "Good morning, Joshua." She made a show of sitting up and stretching and yawning so he thought she had been asleep; he always liked to feel useful. "Did you say it's raining?"

"Yes! Come see!" Joshua moved back so she could get out of bed. Every hut they lived in was smaller than the last and soon they would be sharing one large room, all notions of privacy and space long gone. "Don't forget your blanket."

"I won't." Sasha wrapped the heavy blanket around her shoulders so her brother wouldn't worry and then followed him out to the main room. This hut still had sleeping areas that were separate, but barely, and the walls were so thin she was surprised the rain wasn't seeping through yet.

"Sasha?" Her mother's voice was just as sweet and welcome as the rain. "Are you coming to see the rain?" Standing by the window, her mother offered her a cup of water. "I thought you might be thirsty."

Sasha tried not to laugh, but her mother was always able to make her smile, even when things were dire. It had been at least two months since the last rainfall and even with her water-weaver gifts, their village was suffering. Sasha had done the best she could, grasping far into the earth to dig more wells and even diverting a nearby river as much as she dared, but her actions came at a cost. Her skin dried out, looking like dirt that was ready to crumble, and she was almost always thirsty. No matter what she drank or how much of it, her throat went dry and her mouth got sticky before the cup was drained. "About damn time," she said, glancing out the window at the long-awaited, life-giving rain. She took the cup from her mother, drank it down in one gulp, and then stepped outside, eager to feel the rain on her face even if it meant having to dry out the blanket later. Swimming in the rivers and lakes was one thing, but rain had a purity nothing could match.

"It's a sign, Sasha. You know it is." Sasha turned back to see her mother in the doorway, her expression halfway between sadness and pride.

"It's rain, Mother. Just rain." Sasha shut her eyes again and half turned, breathing the rain-freshened air in deeply. It was such a relief to have everything not coated in a fine layer of dust or dirt. "And we need it. Are all our barrels out?" Glancing up at the pale grey clouds, Sasha frowned. They didn't look very full at all, but some rain was better than none. "I don't think this storm will last long, so we need collect every drop we can. Joshua?" When her brother came running over, Sasha pulled up his hood. "This rain isn't going to last long. Go run to the other huts and tell them to get their barrels out, okay? We need to collect every drop we can." She felt a slight twinge of guilt for lounging in bed when she should have been alerting the neighbouring families, but the smooth, steady pressure of the rain in the air had been so soothing.

"Okay, Sasha." Joshua grabbed two pails, hooked them onto his carrying stick, and headed out for the few huts that were near theirs. The families in the area were struggling just as they were, and they all tried to help each other out.

After Joshua was gone, her mother gave her a stern look. "You know everyone's had their barrels out for weeks, Sasha."

"I know. But he doesn't need to hear talk of signs and omens," Sasha replied, handing the now-damp blanket to her mother so she could bask in the rain as much as possible; she would be far easier to dry off than the blanket would. "Because this is just a passing storm and we both know it." 

"And we both know you're meant to follow it. Sasha, my heart, you've done everything you can for us here." Her mother vanished back into the hut for a few moments before returning without the blanket. "The wells kept us all going for weeks; you couldn't have stopped them from drying up. And everyone knows rivers change their course over time. Now you need to do something for yourself."

For a moment, Sasha regretted taking off the blanket, but even the shivers were welcome after such a long spell of hot, dry weather. "You're here. Joshua's here. This is my home. I helped for all of us."

Her mother sighed, stretching her arm out into the rain as she held an empty cup. "But who helps you? This is no place for a water-weaver, Sasha. The south is too dangerous because of the Skull King, but you could go to the north. They have a sea—"

"And snow and bears and _cold_." This time Sasha's shiver was born of fear. She hadn't been able to travel widely, even when she was riding rivers; when he was younger, Joshua had needed more help than his mother could provide alone, so Sasha made sure she stayed close to home. But she always eagerly devoured the stories of any travellers who came through and had tucked away every story, every cautionary tale. In a way, now that she had built a mental map of the world beyond her sphere, she was almost afraid to visit the real version in case it didn't live up to her expectations and dreams. "Maybe this storm will bring another one and if we get enough rain barrels, I can—"

"Sasha." Her mother drank what little rain had collected in her cup before stepping out into the drizzle to hug her daughter. "You need to go. You need to do something for yourself, just yourself. You've been putting aside your dreams for so long now, and that isn't right. You deserve to know what the sea feels like on your skin and to talk to the waves and to learn the language of the tides. You deserve to go out on a ship so far that you can't see any piece of land. You deserve all those things, and you can't get them here. I can't give them to you and Joshua can't, but you can."

"Mother. . . ." Water was her element, so Sasha was always grateful for rain. Now it hid the tears on her cheeks, but she was sure her mother could see the ones in her eyes. "But how would I find you again? It would probably take me a month just to get to the sea and I don't know how long a voyage takes. By the time I returned. . . ." For other families, those with stable farms, it wouldn't have been a worry, but their little family had been on the move ever since her father had left them. She could leave that afternoon and come back in three days only to discover her mother and brother had to leave in a rush. One of Sasha's most fervent dreams was such a simple reality for others: to provide a safe, stable home for her family.

"We'll stay close to the mountains if we can," her mother said gently, kissing her daughter's forehead before retreating to the cover of the hut. "You know how much Joshua likes them. And every time we move, we'll tell people about you and ask them to tell you about us. It might take a while, but you'll find us. Right now, you need to focus on finding yourself." As the cold started to settle in Sasha's bones, her mother pulled her back inside the hut. "You should leave today. I know it's sudden, but if Joshua has too much time to think about it, you know it will upset him."

_It will upset ME_ , Sasha thought, crying openly as she embraced her mother. She hardly ever complained about constantly moving or their struggles to find a place that would accept Joshua. Somewhere along the line, she had become 'the water girl' to most people outside her family and after a while, that's what she felt like too: water, ebbing and flowing, pushing against a shore that would never give way. "It's not like I have a lot to pack," she replied with a sniffle. She felt her whole body lurch and she looked out the open door. "The rain is stopping already?" Her spirits deflated. There was barely enough water to cover the bottom of the barrels. It would be enough to help their tiny cluster of allied families for a few days, but not much more. "You just want me to leave so I don't drink our well dry," Sasha joked weakly. As parched as she almost always was, Sasha had been trying to drink the absolute minimum so her mother and brother had water too.

"We wouldn't have that well without you," her mother pointed out, wringing water out of Sasha's hair before wrapping a dry blanket around her. The water wouldn't bother Sasha—she would dry off in mere moments on her own—but the chill could set in all too easily. "Let's pack your bag before Joshua gets back. He shouldn't be much longer now."

By the time Joshua returned, sodden but happy, Sasha's bag was packed and by the door, and her mother had insisted that she eat far more than the family could afford to spare. "Joshua." Her mother kept her voice even but firm. "Sasha's going away for a while. She's going to go to the sea and look for other people like her."

When her brother frowned, Sasha wanted to dump her bag open on her bed and forget the whole thing. He had already been through so much and she hated upsetting him. To her surprise, though, he nodded thoughtfully. "Other water people?"

"That's right." Sasha stepped up beside her mother. If she could stand tall and be brave, so could Sasha. "Or maybe there's other people too, people who use fire or air or earth."

Joshua's eyes lit up at the possibilities. "If you meet a fire person," he asked eagerly, "can you bring them back?" Then his expression darkened again. "How will you find us if we move again?"

It was best not to trouble him with too many details, so their mother simply said, "Wherever we go and whoever we meet, we're going to tell them about Sasha. Then when Sasha's on her way back, she can talk to people and ask if anyone's mentioned her. That will help her find us."

He didn't seem completely convinced, but Sasha knew it would take some time for it all to sink in. Joshua would probably still try waking her up for the next few mornings as he got used to his new routine. "I love you," Sasha said, hugging her brother tightly. When she moved over to her mother, she almost said nothing at all, but she didn't dare. Anything could happen to her on her journey and if she didn't make it home to her family, she needed them both to know. "I love you," Sasha repeated to her mother, squeezing her gently. "I don't know when I'll be back, but you'll always be in my heart, and I''ll send you bottles if I can." Even on her shorter trips, she tried sending small trinkets—interesting rocks or feathers, mostly—to Joshua in sealed bottles launched downriver, and their mother said he could focus for hours at the river's edge, waiting and hoping to see a bottle bobbing along. If Sasha managed to get all the way to the sea, any bottle she sent was going to have a long journey, but she trusted the water to find her family.

Leaving her family's hut to go on a trek was always hard, but it had never felt quite so final to Sasha as that time. There was no sense of dread—she didn't have a premonition that she would never see them again—but she also didn't think she was going to see them for quite a long time. _I'll bring them back something nice. Maybe I'll even find a fire person to introduce to Joshua. Maybe I'll find a village closer to a river or lake that would accept him._ She had so many dreams it was hard to choose which one to chase at any given time.

At least picking a method of travel wasn't difficult. Sasha headed straight for the nearest river. Even a water-weaver could only stay submerged for so long without suffering, but she should be able to ride the currents for a few hours at least. When she finally reached the river, she knelt at the bank and started scooping up handfuls of water, smoothing them over her bag like a sealing wax. "Please guard my bag, my body, and my life, and grant me passage as far north as my body can stand," she murmured to the water. Once her bag was waterproofed, Sasha clutched it close to her chest and stepped into the stream, arranging her limbs before letting the current sweep her away.

Beneath the surface of the water was an entirely different world, yet in some ways it was so similar. There were still rocks and dirt and fallen branches and, just like the air, the water could be hot or cold or in between. For the most part, the water guided and guarded her, but every once in a while Sasha banged up against a large rock and had to resurface to make sure she hadn't broken a bone. Not far from the nearest town, there was a corpse in the river. She couldn't tell if the poor soul had drowned or if they had been thrown in the water after they died, but she paused her journey to haul them out, carve a shallow grave far enough away from the river's bank that it wouldn't wash away in the coming years, and buried them as best she could. The body was too bloated and deformed to ascertain much—not even skin colour, let alone age or gender—so she gave them a generic leave-taking and wished them well on their next phase of life. 

Spooked by the corpse, Sasha thought it was as good a time as any to stop for a small meal, and she wasn't surprised to discover her mother had put a large bag of food in her bag. "I wish I had a bottle," she murmured to herself as she ate. Joshua wouldn't be expecting a message so soon, but Sasha already missed her mother and brother terribly. It wasn't the furthest she had ever been from home and certainly not the longest, but it felt the strangest. 

Sasha floated for another few hours that day until she neared a village she had never visited before. She could easily sleep in the river if she wanted to, but it would be nice to get the rush of water out of her ears and to burrow into one of her mother's handmade blankets, one of the few pieces of home she had allowed herself. When she woke the next morning, she half expected to hear Joshua's cheery voice, but was greeted by the babbling of the river and the songs of birds instead. Too much time in the water tended to soak into her hair, turning it blue or green. It could alarm others, so she wound her hair into a coil and wrapped it in a long cloth before approaching the village. "Do you know how far it is to the sea?" she asked the first person she saw.

The man was tall and already covered in enough dirt to have done a full day's work, even though the sun had barely risen. "The sea? Up north? If you're going by foot, girl, it will take you ages." 

She could hardly tell him her true mode of transportation, so Sasha smiled. "I made myself a small boat to take on the rivers," she fibbed gently. It would mean she would have to be careful when she departed; if someone from the village saw her, they might think she was a witch and try to track her down. Most people were grateful for her gift, but many thought it came from a dark place.

Looking at her slight frame, the man sniffed in disdain. "You likely can't row hard. It will take you months, I'm sure. You would be better off going by land."

Sasha bowed her head politely. "I have better luck travelling by water," she said simply. "If a woman and her son ask about a girl named Sasha, please let them know she's doing well."

Heading into the village, Sasha made the same request of everyone she encountered, from the woman who offered her bread to the young children who had happily helped her find an empty bottle in exchange for stories of where she had come from. She missed her morning routine, so she lingered a little longer than she planned, speaking with villagers and trying to ask, in a roundabout way, if anyone in the vicinity had an elemental power. Either they hadn't or they didn't understand her, so Sasha moved on, returning to the river. After making sure no one had followed her, she resealed her bag with water and slipped back into the stream, setting off for another day of travel.

She passed several days that way, pausing for meals and to sleep, and sometimes just to walk into a village and speak with people. Sasha had grown used to relying on her mother and brother and no one else, but so many days alone were taking their toll. That's why she figured she had imagined the hands at first, dipping into the water a mere breath away from her face as she was preparing to travel a few more miles before stopping to eat her final meal of the day. Then the hands returned, only slightly less dirty than before, scrubbing up against each other in their effort to become clean. The sudden swirl of dirt and debris made her cough, rearing up out of the water. "What are you doing?" she yelled, forgetting herself.

Startled, a dark-haired woman fell back against the bank—and the bank caught her, rearranging rocks to soften her landing. Sasha watched it all, wide-eyed and wondering, and the woman quickly scrambled to her feet again. "I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there. I've been sitting against that tree for an hour at least and I didn't hear anyone else in the forest. . . ." Her tone was somehow both accusatory and amazed.

"Does this look like a wash house to you? People drink out of this river!" Sasha replied. When the woman's eyes went wider still, Sasha glanced at her shoulder and saw long streams of blue-green hair spilling over her shoulder. _No point in hiding it now,_ she thought, standing tall and keeping her feet in the water. She was always stronger if she was touching her element. "The . . . stone throne," she said awkwardly, gesturing to the construction the bank had made to save the woman from falling. "How did you make that?"

Sasha expected the woman to laugh off the question as absurd or say that it was simply a trick of the light or that Sasha was dumb and the formation had been there the whole time, but she didn't do any of those things. Instead she leaned closer. "It's really blue!" the woman exclaimed, face brightening with a smile that reminded Sasha of her brother's unabashed joy. "Well, blue and green, I suppose, but . . . how did you do that?"

There was something about the woman that felt familiar, but Sasha wasn't sure why. They didn't look similar: the awe-struck woman had dark hair and dark eyes, to be sure, but her skin was the warm olive of the southern lands, while Sasha's was a soft brown. Their accents were completely different. And yet she somehow felt almost as familiar as Joshua did. It was risky, she knew, but Sasha thought about her mother's bravery and her brother's resolve and decided that if this voyage was about taking chances, she had to start sooner or later. "I'm a water-weaver," she declared, summoning up a spiral of water and letting it curl around her arm like a snake before releasing it back into the water. "Are you an . . . earth-weaver or something?"

"Etcher. I'm an earth-etcher. At least that's what I call it. I've never met anyone like me before." Face and voice full of wondrous relief, she added, "I've never met anyone like you before either." She held out her hand even though her fingers were shaking. "My name is Bayley."

Sasha shook the earth-etcher's hand and stepped up onto the bank, now thinking of the ground in a whole new way. How many times had she kicked at the earth in frustration or been careless about dropping something to the ground? She had always figured there must be other people with the power to wield other elements, but she hadn't considered their attachments to them. "I'm Sasha." She gestured back to the village she had left not long ago. "Is that your village?"

Bayley shook her head. "No. My family has a farm. Well, they did." She looked at her hands as if they had betrayed her. "I can help other people's crops, but my family's farm wilted as my powers grew. So I left in order to change their fortunes—and to see if I could find other people like me."

_That's why she's so excited,_ Sasha realized, hauling her bag out of the water and setting it on the bank. "My land is in drought. I don't think it's because of me," she said, now suddenly unsure, "but we finally got a rain and my mother insisted that it was a sign and that I needed to go."

Pointing to the river with a new reverence, Bayley asked, "How long can you stay under the water? Is that how you travelled all this way? Swimming like a fish?"

Sasha scoffed. "Did you burrow and tunnel all this way like. . . ?" Her lack of knowledge of animals made her trail off. "Yes, I can travel in the water. I sort of . . . merge with it. But I've only ever seen lakes and rivers." She was sure her gaze was just as wondrous as Bayley's when she added, "I haven't been to the sea yet, though. That's one of my goals."

"I can sleep underground," Bayley shared, sitting down and motioning for Sasha to join her. The muddy bank dried up at Bayley's touch and when Sasha ran a hand over it, her fingers came away completely clean. "I've never tried tunnelling, though. I was always worried about getting stuck—buried alive." She looked to the river again with a new respect. "Did you worry about drowning or . . . losing yourself and just wanting to be water forever?"

At first Sasha was going to say that sounded ridiculous, but she couldn't deny the pull. How easy would it be to float away, to melt and merge and just be a wave or a current for the rest of her days? "Sometimes," she admitted slowly. "The drought's been hard and we've had to move a lot because of my brother, and I . . . my mother insisted that I do this. She said I needed something that was mine."

With a sheepish smile, Bayley reached up, grabbed a branch, and murmured a few words. The fruit on the branch went from bud to perfect ripeness in the blink of an eye. She handed an apple to Sasha before biting into her own. "Maybe we could travel together. Just for a little while?" She picked a few seeds out of her apple and spread them out on the ground like others would cast runes. "I've been helping out in villages and on farms, but I miss my family."

"I miss mine too," Sasha confided. As she bit into her apple, she thought she had never tasted anything so delicious. Her thirst hadn't decreased much since she was travelling, but this fruit was so juicy that her throat didn't feel dry at all. "We can travel together until we get to the sea," she suggested, "and then go from there. But don't go muddying up the rivers." She felt like she had to say something stern, even though villagers used the rivers as wash basins all the time.

"As long as you mind your step," Bayley replied with a grin. She might have seemed guileless, but there was a fierce streak in her. Sasha could tell. It was certainly going to be better than endless days of river riding alone, and at least now she would have something to tell Joshua about when she sent him the bottle.


	5. Chapter 5

One of the problems with being raised to be a queen, Charlotte was quickly discovering, was that you grew accustomed to being treated like a queen before you ever officially wore the title. In her homelands, and even in kingdoms closer to Castle Flair, it wasn't much of an issue, since those rulers were all aligned with her father. Even Hunter, who had been called the Skull King well before he was betrothed to Princess Stephanie, treated her in many ways as Ric's equal. Knowing what she knew now, Charlotte was suspicious of his motives, of course, but the end result was essentially the same: in most of the places in her sphere, her world, she was basically treated like a queen already. It was such a given that she hadn't even spared it a thought until she started going further afield and fewer and fewer people knew of King Ric or Castle Flair, let alone his children.

Paige knew, of course, but Paige was a queen in name as well as bearing, since her mother had stepped down from the throne. Many suspected she had only done so because Paige had been injured in battle and wasn't coping with it well, so her mother knew she needed something to keep her occupied. Charlotte wasn't sure how well it was working, though. Paige had no qualms about yelling at her attendants, wandering off in the middle of official events, or speaking her mind very openly and very loudly. Charlotte had always admired her English brashness, but now Paige seemed to be amplifying it. "Good morning, Princess," Paige chirped as she finally entered the dining hall when lunch was about to be served.

It was hard to tell from Paige's tone if _Princess_ was meant in the literal sense or as a stark reminder that Charlotte was not yet queen, so Charlotte merely smiled. She and her attendants had just arrived the day before and she was too tired to start playing political games quite yet. Her only plans for the day were sampling Paige's wine collection, taking a walk along the coast, resting, and perhaps finding a handsome young knight who could be trusted for a quick dalliance. She wasn't married yet, after all, and if she could find a way not to be—at least for a while—so much the better. "Good afternoon," Charlotte replied, finishing the last of her meal. "When my attendants are ready, I would like to go for a walk along the coast, unless you have plans. . . ." It chafed her to ask—to be _expected_ to ask—but she was in Paige's castle, Paige's kingdom, and the English queen far outranked her. During the long journey across the continent and then the water, at least Charlotte had enjoyed the relative freedom of being in command. Now she had to answer to the reigning monarch and a quiet, treacherous part of her brain kept reminding her that if any harm befell her so far from home, her family would never be able to prove anything. Paige could even say that Charlotte had never arrived and none of her people would dare to contradict her. Charlotte didn't think Paige actively wished her ill, but as a future queen, she was learning to be wary at all times.

Charlotte thought her request was fairly benign and didn't expect to get a reaction at all. If anything, perhaps Paige would suggest a route to take or a spot to avoid or, in her sly way, a favourable knight who might be excellent company for such a stroll. She certainly hadn't expected the English queen to nearly choke on her wine. "Walk? Coast?" Paige almost bent over double as she coughed into her napkin. "You've seen how rocky our coasts are, Charlotte."

"Indeed. They're beautiful, and I'd like to see more of them." Of all the things she expected Paige to protest, a simple walk certainly wasn't one of them. Perhaps if Charlotte had asked for a sword and a fighting partner, she could see Paige having concerns, but what harm was there in a simple stroll?

There was clearly something, though, because Paige shook her head. "You'll have to wait until I can spare some knights, I'm afraid. We've had some problems with the damn Irish . . . and the Scottish. That's why we have so many patrols," she explained. Charlotte couldn't remember even seeing one patrol, but before she could comment, Paige was rambling on. "Perhaps around sunset. The ocean looks so lovely then. It's really the best time for it." One of Paige's serving staff nodded as he cleared empty plates from the table. "Right now it's just water and rock, really. Best to wait. Then you'll have all afternoon to rest and relax." Once they had the dining hall to themselves, Paige leaned closer and winked. "Besides, I have some wonderful new knights you haven't met yet and I'm sure you'd like to introduce yourself—"

"My father wants to marry me off," Charlotte blurted out. She had intended to mention it when they arrived, but she was unaccustomed to sea travel and needed to rest. Then Paige had insisted on a meal and, when Charlotte was able to keep that down, a sampling of wine, and somehow it all slipped her mind. One of Charlotte's attendants—Dana, most likely—would have mentioned it sooner rather than later, so she was glad it was out of the way, even if she wished her delivery had been more graceful. "He held a feast and invited princes from all the best families, but apparently Randall is his favourite."

"Randall?" Paige's face contorted, looking all the stranger behind her drinking vessel. "The one they call The Viper?" Ordinarily, Charlotte would have considered her shudder melodramatic, but given that it was her possible marriage being discussed, she felt much the same way. "Why?"

"Legacy," Charlotte answered simply. "Randall and Clan Orton brought good gifts to sway him, as did others, but ever since Reid died, Father's been obsessed with continuing his legacy." she paused, wondering how much to divulge. Part of her desperately wanted to tell someone about the arrangement her father and Hunter had discussed, but she didn't fully trust Paige not to share it with anyone else. Telling a few others of Randall's intentions wouldn't cause any damage, but if word got back to Hunter—or worse yet, Princess Stephanie or King Vincent—her family wouldn't have to worry about legacies any longer; they would be lucky if they were all still alive. "He figures if Randall and I had children, it would unite our kingdoms and help us gain more land, more acclaim." When she put it that way, it didn't sound that much different from most of the marriages she had heard of, but it held no appeal for her. Feeling the need to be slightly fair, she added, "Randall included swords in his offering, so at least he has good taste."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Princess, you can't go marrying a man just because he gave you a nice sword." She smiled for a moment at the double entendre before continuing. "Especially one like Randall." Sighing, Paige leaned back in her chair. "Are there any of the suitors you _do_ like?"

Charlotte took a moment to think. While Paige was following in her family's footsteps as much as Charlotte was treading in hers, the two scenarios couldn't be much different. Paige's family had fought and bled to gain the throne and then to keep it, and even when Paige appeared to be indolent or dismissive, she was shrewdly surveying what was going on around her. Charlotte could see that spark in her dark eyes right now and she made a note to be wary of the English queen. Her father had often told her that those who had to bleed to gain power thought nothing of making others bleed so they could keep it. "Not really," Charlotte admitted with a shrug. "Theodore seems nice enough, I suppose, and some of the others are okay, but . . . it's not what I want. I want to be fighting. I want my sword back. I want—"

"You want what Reid had," Paige finished softly, rising from her chair. "I understand, Charlotte. I do. And maybe in time, you can have that. But for now, pick the best of them, the one you think you can bend to your will the most." Kissing the top of Charlotte's head, she added, "Go back to your rooms. I'll send you some company and then we'll go for that walk at sunset and we'll talk about how to think your way through this."

Even though she had been hoping to find a handsome young knight, having Paige arrange one for her felt wrong somehow. It gave Charlotte an idea, though, so she nodded and stood quickly, hoping the queen didn't suspect anything from her sudden acquiescence. "You're right, Paige. I'm sure I can find a solution that works to my liking. Thank you." Bowing slightly, she added, "This dress is such a pain to take off. Give me a few minutes to get one of my attendants to help me with it and then I'll be ready to welcome company properly."

Paige gave her a knowing wink. "Of course. Have a lovely afternoon. I'll see you at supper." Then she strode off, calling out an order to an attendant as she left the dining hall.

Charlotte practically ran back to her rooms, nearly colliding with her attendant Alexa on the way. "Come with me," she said quietly. Once they were in her room, she turned around. "I need to get out of this dress and back into my riding clothes so I can sneak out of the castle."

Wide-eyed, Alexa silently obeyed, loosening the laces so quickly Charlotte was surprised that her fingers didn't have rope burn. "What's going on, my lady?"

The next part of her plan would hinge entirely on Alexa's willingness, and it involved an act that Charlotte would never force. "You've seen most of Paige's knights, yes?" When Alexa nodded, she continued. "Do you fancy any of them? If you could have a dalliance with one, would you?"

Alexa's face flushed bright, almost painful pink. "My lady, I swear I have not—"

"I know you _haven't_." Sighing, Charlotte quickly fastened her riding pants and then grabbed Alexa's shoulders. "What I say now mustn't reach anyone else's ears. I want to sneak out of the castle. Paige is sending me a young knight to fuck, presuming I'll pass the afternoon away with him. That gives me time to explore unhindered. Do you understand?"

"You . . . want me to fuck the knight for you?" Alexa was accustomed to strange orders in Castle Flair, but even for Charlotte this was a new one.

Charlotte shook her head before shrugging into her riding shirt. "Only if you're willing. If you're not—or he's not, for that matter—I will find another diversion. But he should be arriving soon, so you can let me know your assessment of him."

She had no sooner finished speaking when there was a knock on the door, and Charlotte stepped just out of view. "Hello." The young man's voice was accented in a similar way to Paige's, but with different peaks and valleys to it. "My name is Murphy. The queen sent me to accompany Princess Charlotte."

Judging from the brightness in Alexa's eyes, she seemed quite taken with the young knight, so Charlotte motioned for her to let him in. "Hello, Murphy. Let's not be coy. We all know why the queen sent you here, right?" He had the grace to blush a bit, and Charlotte thought it made him and Alexa look like a lovely pair. "I'm sure you're wonderful, but I have something I need to attend to. Nothing that will affect your queen or your country," she promised quickly, not wanting to test the knight's loyalty. "But I require time and secrecy. So if I would leave the use of my chambers to you and Alexa for . . . whatever you see fit," she added vaguely, "perhaps you could be so kind as to advise me of a way to leave the castle without being detected?"

Murphy seemed to have a crisis of conscience for a moment. "You say it won't affect my queen or country," he replied slowly, "but will it endanger you, your highness? The queen assumes I will be with you, so if any harm befalls you. . . ."

"I'll be fine," Charlotte assured him. "I'll be back a bit before sunrise, so please enjoy yourselves. Now, can you please let me know the quietest way out of the castle?"

Murphy opened the door again and pointed down the corridor. "Do you know where the queen's chambers are?" When Charlotte nodded, he continued. "All along this corridor, family tapestries hang on the walls. Only one bears a black unicorn. Behind that one is a secret door. Follow the staircase down and the door at the bottom will let you out at the side of the castle. There will be guards in the turrets, though," he cautioned, "and you'll need to watch for—"

"I'll be fine," Charlotte repeated, trying to keep her sharpness out of her voice. She motioned for Alexa to braid her hair quickly and when it was done, she tucked the long rope into her shirt. "I hope you enjoy yourselves." They both blushed again and Charlotte snuck past them, hoping she didn't run into anyone in the corridor. She was taller than most women, so it was quite difficult for her to blend in. It seemed to take ages to find the black unicorn tapestry, but there was a door behind it as Murphy had promised and after one hard pull, Charlotte yanked it open. It was pitch black, of course, but she hadn't wanted to juggle a torch near a tapestry, so she descended slowly, keeping a hand on each wall and fervently hoping that no one else was coming up or down the narrow stairs. She summoned air to her, freshening the stale air in the rarely-used escape route and catching whiffs of sea air at the same time. _The exit has to be close,_ she thought.

Then the stairs levelled off onto a landing and the barest bit of light shone along the ground. _Please don't make me need a key._ All the holes in her plan were starting to show. What if she couldn't get out of the passage? What if she couldn't get back in when she was done? If she strolled back in through the castle's main door, Paige would know she hadn't been enjoying Murphy's company all afternoon long. _I'll deal with those problems when they arise,_ Charlotte told herself, summoning swirls of air to cloak her as she opened the secret door and stepped outside. Then she shut the door behind her quickly and ran to the nearest cover, a small grove of fruit trees maintained for the kitchen's use. Once she was shielded by the canopy of the trees, Charlotte let the spell drop and headed towards the roar of the ocean.

The walk turned out to be longer than she expected, especially since she was keeping close to the trees to avoid detection. _At this point, I'm going to have to turn back pretty soon. I hope Alexa at least enjoyed her afternoon._ Then she climbed over one last crest and the terrain gradually changed from grass to sand.

The ocean was before her at last, the air so salty it felt like a delicacy to be devoured, but even after everything she had done to sneak off, Charlotte found her attention drawn away from the water. Two people were arguing by a small boat, with a third—a knight, by the looks of him—standing off in the distance. Paige was one of the people yelling, making wide, sweeping gestures that made her dress sleeves wave like flags. 

The other person arguing was on fire.

At a strangled sound from the knight, Paige turned and saw Charlotte. Panic flashed across her face for a moment as she ran over to intercept her. "What are you doing down here? How—how did you even get here? I sent Murphy. . . ."

"I know. I decided I'd rather take a walk." Charlotte tried looking around Paige, but the queen kept stepping in her way. "Who is that? Why are they _on fire_? On fire and . . . not screaming?" It took Charlotte a moment to see through the flames and she used a hint of her power to clear away some smoke so she could identify the flame-enrobed person as a woman.

"They're not," Paige said hastily, pushing at Charlotte's shoulders and trying to get her to turn around. "She's not. You had a long day yesterday, remember? Lots of travel, lots of wine. You're probably just hungry. You really should have taken Murphy up on his offer."

Charlotte tried to dig her heels in, but the sand wasn't working in her favour. " _She's on fire_ , Paige! I can see the flames from here!" The knight looked utterly flustered, like he would rather be anywhere else, but he remained rooted to the spot. "Why isn't she screaming?"

"Because I'm a fire-forger, you bloody idiot," the woman replied. She looked to Paige and when the queen said nothing, the other woman sighed and flicked the flames off her the way Ric's hunting hounds shook the rain out of their coats. 

"What the hell is that? I don't see any tools. . . ." Charlotte gestured to where Paige and the woman were standing. There was the small boat—presumably belonging to the woman—and some wood debris, and fluffy piles of ashes. "Paige?"

Sighing, Paige threw her hands in the air. "Enough! Enough. You two weren't supposed to meet. It's hard enough keeping one elemental secret around here, let alone two. At least I was expecting you, Bex," the queen added, looking at the fire-forger. 

Now that the flames were doused, Charlotte could see that Bex's vibrant hair almost looked like fire on its own, all infernal reds and bright oranges. "If you have . . . company," Bex said simply, assessing and dismissing Charlotte in the same quick glance, "I can leave." She gestured behind herself to her boat. To Charlotte's eyes, it looked in dire need of mending. "Finn will be more than happy to take me back."

"No," Paige barked, taking Charlotte aback. She had never seen Paige be so familiar with anyone outside her own family. "You came here for a reason, Bex, and we both know it. If you go back, you'll regret it for a long time." It sounded more like a sad premonition than a thinly veiled threat, and Paige's eyes glistened with regret.

Bex simply shrugged, a few tongues of flame licking around her shoulders again. "Then I'll go up to Scotland. Drew's clan will welcome me." When the mention of Scotland made Paige tense up, Bex added, "Or to the mainland."

"The mainland? In that death trap?" Paige aimed a distinctly inelegant kick at the small boat, making it shake. "You'd drown while I could still see the whites of your eyes from the castle!"

Charlotte desperately tried to follow the exchange. Since Bex had mentioned going to Scotland, Charlotte assumed her accent was Irish, though she wasn't certain. The fire-forger had also mentioned a man's name: Finn. Was she running from a situation similar to hers? Bex was loud and feisty, characteristics Charlotte didn't always appreciate, but it felt like those had called to her. Why else had Charlotte been so adamant about leaving the castle when she did and not enjoying what Murphy had to offer? Why had she kept going through the grove when it seemed endless? Though she had tutors to help develop her air-arching, they had all been witches; Charlotte hadn't met another elemental before. "You called yourself a fire-forger?" Charlotte said, raising her voice above the splash of the waves.

Bex looked both irritated at the interruption and grateful for the diversion. "What of it? It's as good a term as any. Not like there's any more like me around to correct me, anyway. Why?" She wasn't exactly combative, but Charlotte didn't doubt that Bex would take on the knight, Paige, and Charlotte all at once if she had to.

Lifting a hand to the sky, Charlotte smiled. "Because I'm an air-archer." The gust of wind she called picked up everything from loose sand to leaves to the hem of Paige's dress. 

She still looked petulant, but at least Bex wasn't ignoring Charlotte now. "So you control the air, yeah? Wind, whatever."

Charlotte nodded, smiling slowly. "And breath, if I like." She curled her hand into a loose fist and watched as Bex realized that she couldn't draw in any air.

"Useful," Bex croaked.

When Charlotte smelled smoke, she assumed it was Bex's humble boat or some of the debris on the shore, but then her feet felt increasingly and uncomfortably hot and she realized the cuffs of her pants were on fire. "Shit!" She leapt into the ocean to put out the flames, but the water had no effect. "Stop it!" she shrieked. "Put them out!"

Bex's face had gone a soft purple and she was wobbling on her feet, but she still managed to glare at Charlotte. "You first," she rasped, barely moving her lips.

"BOTH OF YOU, STOP IT!" Paige bellowed. Both elementals eventually relented—Charlotte because she couldn't concentrate past the pain, Bex because she was about to pass out—and Paige let out a long string of profanity. The fire-forger slumped to the sand, leaning up against her boat as she caught her breath, and the air-archer lifted her pant cuffs to assess the damage to her legs. "Good god! You should both be happy to finally meet someone like you, not trying to kill each other."

Rubbing her throat, Bex snorted. "Pretty sure no one ever died from burned ankles, Paige."

"I wouldn't have let her suffocate," Charlotte countered, wincing at the blistering skin on her legs.

Paige just shook her head. "Both of you, go back to the castle." Then she gave Charlotte an odd look. "I walked by your door, Princess, and I know what I heard." She didn't ask the question outright, perhaps because of the knight in their midst, but he blushed and averted his gaze all the same.

Charlotte didn't quite meet her gaze. "One of my attendants took a liking to him," she said vaguely. She didn't think Paige would try to punish Alexa, but Charlotte would do her best to guard her attendant's well-being all the same. "So I figured it would be a good diversion if I needed one."

"If all you elementals are so bloody stupid," Paige replied, "I hope I don't meet any more. You two are quite vexing enough. Come on. Back to the castle. Bex, leave your boat; Peter will guard it, unless you two make me send him for some shackles for you both."

"Will there be something to eat at least?" Bex cast a last look at her little boat before heading for the proper path up to the castle.

"There's food and wine and beds," Charlotte told her. She thought about mentioning the availability of knights, but she didn't want to make Peter feel even more uncomfortable. Instead, she fashioned a bubble of pure air around Bex's head, smiling as the fire-forger's breathing improved. "I apologize. I shouldn't have let it get that far."

Bex nodded, looking down at Charlotte's feet as they walked towards the castle, Paige and the knight bringing up the rear in case the elementals tried taking a different path. "Sorry about your ankles. I just meant to singe your pants," she admitted, "but I had a trying voyage." She held her hand down at her side and wiggled her fingers, and Charlotte noticed the fire-forger's hand going red before realizing her ankles no longer hurt.

"You're from Ireland, yes?" Charlotte asked. "Are you leaving something behind or moving towards something?" She fully expected Bex to spit sparks at her, but the intimate nature of the question didn't seem to upset the fire-forger; instead she seemed to be considering her answer rather than just giving a reflexive reply. "I'm . . . not sure what I'm doing. Both, really. Trying to avoid a marriage while seeking out my own path."

"Both. I need to grow and to . . . to move in ways I can't do at home. Not right now anyway. I'll go back one day," Bex added, looking back at the ocean wistfully. "But for now, I feel like I need to be here."

Charlotte could feel all the emotions simmering in the fire-forger as if her heart were a cauldron: fear, anger, yearning, confusion. She recognized them all on the spot because they were brewing inside her too. There had been plenty of people Charlotte could have sought shelter with who were far enough away from Castle Flair to give her some space and privacy, and yet she had chosen Paige, with whom she had an admittedly rocky relationship. For the entire journey to England, she wondered why—even doubted it and considered returning home. She hadn't been sure of the reason, and now it was walking right alongside her.


	6. Chapter 6

"A few days before I met you, I saw water travelling _up_ a rock, not down. Was that you?" Bayley was practically bouncing with excitement. She and Sasha had been travelling together for a few days now, even though they both agreed to make no promises, and she was endlessly curious about the water-weaver.

" _Shhh!_ " Sasha swatted at her arm before pointing to the villagers walking in front of them. They were likely far enough ahead that they hadn't heard—or wouldn't have assumed anything about magic even if they did hear—but she still wanted to be cautious. "I don't know. I don't know where you were. Is any of my hair sticking out?"

Bayley stood an arm's length away and looked at her new friend. Apparently the more Sasha used her powers, the more her hair changed colour to match the waters she was either in or closest to. Every time they so much as saw a village in the distance, Sasha would braid her hair, coil it up on top of her head, and wrap a cloth around it to hide its unnatural hue. "It's good." Silently, Bayley wished she had some interesting manifestation when she used her powers, but her hair was already almost as dark as the soil. With her luck, her skin would harden to stone or something equally unflattering.

Glancing over at her, Sasha softened somewhat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just don't want anyone to get suspicious of us. We're strangers to them, and everyone's on edge because of the raids and the harvest. They already have enough reasons to be wary; we don't need to give them more." She adjusted her hair wrap a bit before forcing her hands down to her belt. "So where did you see this water?"

It had only been days ago, a week at most, but given Bayley's relative lack of worldliness, it felt like a year had passed between then and now. Since then, she had met—and angered—another elemental, learned how to make a boat for them both, watched a water-weaver at work, and had gone further from home than she had ever been in her life. "I'm not sure. It was pretty soon after I left home," she added, hoping Sasha didn't think she was being petulant. "I had just spent a couple nights at a farm helping out a family in exchange for food and a bed—"

"And company." Bayley knew a strange expression must have pinched her face, because Sasha quickly shook her head. "Not like that. Just . . . people to talk to and laugh with. You grew up with a family. You get used to having people around. I know I did, even if Mother and Joshua and I had to move so often. It was just the three of us," she added softly, "but we were closer than many larger families we encountered on our travels. We had to be—"

Instinctively, Bayley wrapped her arms around the water-weaver. She had siblings herself—a brother and two sisters—and while they had moved away from the family farm years ago, they had been instrumental in helping her adapt to her earth-etching abilities when she was a child. "I understand." She started to apologize for the hug, but to her surprise—and delight—Sasha returned it, if with a little less vigour. "Yeah, the company is nice. But I always worry about staying too long and doing more harm than good. . . ."

Sasha patted her shoulder as they hurried to get inside a villager's fenced-in grazing land so he could close the gate behind them. "You've been doing so many good things, Bayley. In every village we've been in. I swear most of the grandmothers want to claim you as their daughter."

Bayley laughed at that. "I wouldn't complain, but it also makes their daughters-in-law hate me." She smiled when one of the villagers turned to face them. "So how can we help? I'm good at harvesting and planting," she added, "and Sasha's very good at finding water sources. How are your wells?"

The man grimaced. "We're down to our last one. All the others dried up earlier in the year, so we've been using them for storage."

She didn't want to smile and seem pleased by the village's plight, so Bayley turned to Sasha. "I think we might be able work on those for you." She gave the water-weaver a meaningful look. "In exchange, we require food and lodging—"

"If you can fix the wells, even _one_ well," the man replied, "we'll gladly pay. All of us." Then he pointed to a small house not far from the main one. "I built that for my daughter and her husband when they got married, but they've since moved on. It's yours for as long as you want to stay. I'll have my wife prepare it for you. Boys, leave the boat under the trees." He gestured to his two sons who were portaging the boat Bayley had built for her and Sasha. "It will be safe there," he told the elementals.

"Thank you," Sasha replied. While Bayley had dealt with more than enough adversity in her life, she knew her mother and stepfather had weathered the worst of it; Sasha, on the other hand, had needed to start helping her mother at a far younger age and was thus more experienced in handling negotiations. "Show us where the closest dry well is," Sasha instructed, "and we'll examine it while we still have the sun on our side."

"We have one. This way." The villager nodded to his two sons again before heading towards the main house. When a younger girl started running towards him, he grinned. "Brenna! Tell your mother to prepare the second house for our visitors, please." Brenna waved and dashed back into the house, her voice carrying across the field. "She's a very strong girl," he said proudly when he saw Sasha and Bayley watching her. "She's already learning the sword. She wishes to copy her brothers in all things."

"I was like that when I was her age," Bayley confided. Of course, the development of her powers changed the course of her life immeasurably, but she liked to think she could have been a warrior if things had been different. 

The man smiled at her. "I'm sure your parents are proud of you." Then he looked to Sasha, clearly trying to figure out how they were connected. "Are you kin?" he asked at last. "It's none of our business, of course, and you're welcome to stay regardless. . . ."

"We come from neighbouring villages," Sasha replied vaguely. The places where they had been living weren't all that far apart, in truth, but it would hardly do to claim to be cousins or something similar when there was still so much they didn't know about each other. "But we work well together."

Once they reached the well behind the farm buildings, the elementals set their bags down, but the man looked like he was going to linger. "Are there any hazards we should know about?" Bayley asked, hoping he would get the hint.

Sasha drove it home even further. "We won't be long. We just need a few minutes to see how deep it is and do some measuring. The true work would be done tomorrow, with the blessing of the full sun and a good night's rest."

The last bit seemed to convince the man that they weren't out to cheat him, and he nodded at last. "Of course. When you're done, the second house will be ready for you, so please feel free to put your bags inside. You're welcome to eat with us in the main house whenever you're ready."

"We thank you for your kindness," Sasha replied, bowing her head politely. Watching the man's departure out of the corner of her eye, she mimed taking measurements of the well until he was out of sight. "Fixing this without being obvious about the magic is going to be difficult," she said, still keeping her voice low just in case. "Doubly so if his daughter wants to help."

"Can we even fix it, though?" Bayley removed the cover and scrunched up her nose as an old, stagnant odour wafted out of the dry well. After it had aired out for a few moments, she leaned over the well's wall and spread her fingers wide, trying to gauge how pliant the surrounding earth was.

Sasha peered down into the murky depths. "Anything?"

Straightening up, Bayley hemmed and hawed. "Maybe. I can feel . . . a blockage or something. That could be the water. The earth is movable, but it will take some work, and I'm not sure how we could explain it without talking about magic."

Motioning for Bayley to move, Sasha took over her spot and looked down into the well, shutting her eyes and wiggling her fingers impatiently. "There's definitely water there, and I think I know what that blockage is." When she stood up again, she massaged her knuckles. "Maybe if we try to find the water underground, we could always dig a new well. . . ."

"Or we could work on the harvesting and such during the day," Bayley suggested slowly, grabbing her bag as they started to head to the second house. "Then we could get all our stuff ready for a hasty exit and fix the wells overnight, when people are sleeping."

Sasha was dubious. "Then they're going to remember us even more, Bayley. They'll think we're some benevolent spirits that came to help them in their time of need."

Bayley gave a small shrug. "In a way, we are. Is that so wrong?"

"It's not _wrong_ ," Sasha answered, shaking her head sadly. "But it will lead to all sorts of trouble. What if the wells go dry again? Then the villagers will think, 'Oh, remember those kindly spirit women who helped with the harvest? Maybe if we pray to them, they'll fix our wells again'. Except we'll be far away, so they'll either be angry or disappointed—or both. And _then_ if we need to come back this way, we won't get a warm welcome because they'll think we abandoned them."

The idea of not helping was unbearable to Bayley. In the face of every villager she and Sasha had met on their travels, she had seen something that reminded her of her mother or stepfather. She wasn't there to help them now, but she hoped that someone would in her absence. "What if we . . . do some minor work on it during the day and say the earth needs to settle or something? Then we can sneak back out at night, do the magic work, and things will be fixed in the morning?" Bayley suggested.

She could tell Sasha liked that idea better, but there were still flaws. "When we're gone, though, what if they try the same thing to fix the well and it doesn't work?" Sasha pointed out. "They might not get angry at us, but if we show up again, they'll want to know _exactly_ how we made the well work, and it's nothing we'll be able to teach to them." She picked up her bag and patted Bayley's shoulder. "That plan's not bad," she added. "If we can't think of anything better tonight, we'll try that, okay?"

After dropping off their bags in the second house and concocting a story about where they were from and where they were going so they wouldn't contradict each other, Sasha and Bayley went to the main house to join the family for the meal. Brenna was delighted to meet them and regaled them with stories about how she trained with her brothers. Her sword—named Sharp-Sky for the odd blue hue the metal had taken on during the forging process—was leaning against the wall proudly. "I bet your brothers are scared of you two as well," Brenna beamed.

Bayley and Sasha shared a glance and smiled. Bayley had idolized her brothers and Sasha would do anything to protect and defend hers. "Mine taught me a lot, just like yours are teaching you," Bayley replied. "I miss them very much. My sister too."

The man waited until the meal was over and his wife and children were off doing other things to inquire about the well, and Bayley guessed he didn't want to give them false hope. "Is there anything you can do to fix the well? All the wells in the area are like that except the main one in the village. The village shares as much as they can spare with all of us on the farms and we're grateful, but it would be much easier if our own wells were working again."

"There's something we think we can try," Sasha began slowly, "but we'll have to do some work on it during the day and then let the earth settle overnight. Then we can test it in the morning to see if it holds." Glancing at Bayley, she added, "One well should take about two such days, and then we'll know if it works."

The man shut his eyes in relief. "Two days is nothing compared to how we've suffered. Please, if you can help . . . if you think it will work. . . ."

"We make no promises," Bayley reminded him, "but we'll do what we can. We'll also help with your fields, of course, as we agreed."

Late that evening, Bayley made decoy human forms out of dirt in case anyone from their host family looked in on them during the night. Then she and Sasha crept to all the dry wells, testing them with their powers and doing some minor magical preparations for the day to come. Some of the work would be purely physical, and they would leave that to the villagers: not only would it spare them the strain, since using magic was a draining endeavour, but it would also help the villagers feel included and hopefully dispel some of their suspicions. The secretive work left them tired the next morning, but their hosts attributed their yawns and stiff stretches to the rigours of their travels.

As they worked together, both in the mundane sense and the magical, Bayley found herself establishing an easy rhythm with Sasha. In very little time, they learned each other's strengths and weaknesses, their flaws and foibles, and all in all, they were a good, solid team. Brenna spent as much time around them as she could before her mother would summon her back to the house to help with chores, but the two elementals were still able to sneak in bits of work here and there. To make up for the sleep they lost at night, they tried to take small naps in the afternoon. The family hardly asked questions, however, so pleased were they with the elementals' strong work ethic and invaluable help.

In less than a week, they had four wells in the vicinity fully operational again, with another three almost repaired. They involved the locals as much as they could so it didn't look too suspicious, but several of the children, including Brenna, had fanciful ideas as to how the two outsiders were able to revive their water supply. "I think Sasha is a mermaid," Brenna declared at their final meal together. "I think Bayley knows the spell that turns legs to fins and back again, and she helps Sasha into the well."

One of her brothers—Bayley had admittedly never learned any of the sons' names—scoffed loudly. "Is your head as empty as your plate? There was no water in the wells before, Brenna."

Brenna rolled her eyes sharply. "Well, of course she didn't do it before they unleashed the water. Sasha would have gone down the well, located the water, and sang to it. Then when it came back, she would have Bayley restore her fins."

Smiling, Bayley winked at Brenna's parents. "Clearly she's as smart as she is strong. It's a good thing Sasha and I will be on our way today," she added, "or else she might unfurl all our secrets." The adults and older children all smiled, while Brenna and the younger ones didn't quite understand the joke, and so the elementals' actual use of magic was hidden safely in plain sight. 

"Do you have to leave?" Brenna complained. "There's the river that's only an hour's walk away!"

Sasha patted her knees. "That's not enough room for a mermaid to swim," she answered warmly. "I need to get to the sea. But if we happen to come this way again, we'll stop in to visit and see how all the wells are faring."

The mother's smile was a combination of tiredness and relief. "The second house is there for you whenever you need it."

"You've been very kind." Bayley instinctively rose and started helping clear the table. When she didn't dare try her magic on her parents' land, the only way she could help her family had been doing simple chores, and she had learned to find a sort of solace in them: they didn't change the world, but if they weren't done, it would affect everyone's day. "Thank you for the hospitality."

After Bayley and Sasha packed up their bags, they visited the three final wells, using whispers of magic to resurrect them. Each well had a series of spells woven within it to help with minor repairs and to keep them functional. They told the farmers as many practical tips as they could and hoped for the best before hoisting their boat over their heads and walking back towards the river. The shadow cast by their boat hid Sasha's expression somewhat, but Bayley could tell she was smiling. "What?"

"Look how much good we did, Bayley." It was awkward to stop while portaging their boat, but they both turned to face the farms which had been their focus for the last week or so. What had once been expanses of dying grains and bleak-faced people was now starting to thrive. They didn't want to restore the crops too quickly, but they did their best to make sure things would continue to prosper in their absence. "I bet you if we hadn't helped, most of these families would have had to move on before the end of the year. And now they don't. Because of us." Sasha's eyes glistened with tears as she added, "It's horrible that you can't use your gift to help your own family, and I wish I could change that for you. But don't ever doubt how much you can do."

The ground under Bayley's feet, so lifeless on their arrival, was now thrumming with life, and she could feel a buzzing energy all around her. The farmers still had a lot of hard work ahead, but now they would have at least one solid harvest to help get them through the winter. It wasn't much, but it was a start, and sometimes a start was all a person needed to get going. "I know. I try not to lose sight of that, but it's hard sometimes." When they continued walking, she added, "I got a bottle for you to send to your brother. You'll have lots to share this time."

Bayley loved a lot of things about Sasha, but the smile on the water-weaver's face when she was talking about her brother was one of the purest things in the world. "Thank you. I had almost forgotten about that. According to the brothers, it should only be another day or two until we reach some of the seaside villages. I'm so excited!" 

Sasha's enthusiasm was palpable, but not infectious. To Bayley, such an expanse of water was a daunting prospect, but she could understand Sasha's joy. She had been born in a land-locked place, ideal for an earth-etcher; rivers and lakes would have been small comforts for water-weavers, the earth-etcher's equivalent to a tiny island adrift in a mammoth sea. "This boat," Bayley said, knocking on the side of their trusty vessel for luck, "isn't seaworthy. I know you can command water, but even you have limits. We''ll have to see if we can pay for a spot on a ship or maybe get hired on a crew. . . ."

With Bayley using some subtle magic to make their path easier to walk, they reached the river by mid-afternoon and relaxed on the bank for a while. Sasha submerged herself completely in the water, letting her hair free for the first time in days; mindful of all the farmers and villagers, she had washed her hair in private and quickly bundled it back up again, which was starting to damage it. "I need to leave my hair down for a while," she said when she resurfaced, drawing the dampness out of her clothes and releasing it back into the river, which burbled happily at her feet. "Will you keep an eye out for any strangers?"

"Of course." Bayley eased the boat into the river, thanking it for its help now as a matter of course. She had heard Sasha speaking to the rivers so often that she had started doing so as well, though she knew her words wouldn't make any difference. "Front or back?" she asked.

"I'll take the back," Sasha said, "so I can steer better." They technically had oars for their humble little boat, but all Sasha had to do was dip her fingers into the water and ask the currents to guide their vessel down the river. The boat responded to Bayley to a degree, since she had cut the trees—after thanking them, of course—and shaped the wood. As if sensing Bayley's thoughts, Sasha smiled. "We're becoming quite the team, aren't we?"

Bayley nodded, securing their bags as Sasha propelled their boat down the river. Working with Sasha, travelling with her and sharing stories with her: it all felt so natural to Bayley now. She couldn't imagine her life without it. But what if Sasha wanted to part ways once they reached the sea? They had never really discussed how long they would journey together, after all, and they had both mentioned the sea. If their paths diverged there, Bayley would be alone again, only this time it would feel so much worse after having such refreshing company. "So what happens when we reach the sea?" she asked.

Sasha was already leaning back against the boat, eyes closed as she relished being so close to her element once again. "What do you mean?"

"Where do you want to go?" What do you want to do?" Bayley hoped she didn't sound demanding Some of her goals had already been met: get enough distance between her and her family's farm that she couldn't harm it, travel and learn, help as many people as she could. She thought about what her mother had said about going to a small island and making it habitable for others. It was a worthy goal, to be sure. Bayley just wasn't sure it was hers, not yet. Travelling with Sasha had made her long for adventures, new places, the camaraderie she had with her siblings when they were all younger.

"I don't really know." Sasha barely lifted her shoulder in a shrug; her whole body was in tune with the river beneath them and she didn't want to disrupt that connection. "I just know I want to see the sea. I need to. When I heard stories about warriors being so far out in the ocean that they couldn't see land, it felt like a dream. I need to make that real. I want to see how far I can dive. I want to see a whale!" Then she laughed. "I sound as ridiculous as Brenna, don't I? Did she really think I was a mermaid?"

"We don't know that you're not, to be fair," Bayley pointed out. "Maybe your water-weaver powers are just how mermaids deal with being on land." She had meant to sound like she was teasing, but it made some sense. What, then, was the point of her powers? What were they compensating for?

Sasha opened one eye to peek at Bayley. "We could pick a country to sail to. I'm sure we could get on a proper ship." Most of the families in the area had been so relieved to having the wells working again that they insisted on paying the elementals. Bayley and Sasha only ever took a bit of money, knowing the farmers couldn't afford to pay much, but it would definitely be enough to pay for passage. "Where would you like to go?"

Bayley leaned back against her end of the boat, propping her feet up on their bags. She loved working magic with Sasha and sharing stories late at night, and even working in the fields during the day. But these were the times she loved most of all, the long, lazy moments where both their elements were in easy reach, in harmony. Before, she had thought of earth-etching as being a limited power, but now she knew it could be so much more. "With you? Anywhere."


	7. Chapter 7

"You didn't have to come." Bex tried to make her voice as stern as possible, but it wasn't as if she actually minded the company. She had come to England to focus and to work on her shield-fire spell and while spending time with Charlotte wasn't conducive to either, she couldn't deny that it was nice to be forming a friendship again. Back in Ireland, she had been so focussed on her training that many other things passed her by, even when her family and Finn warned her not to isolate herself. A spoiled princess wouldn't have been her first choice of companions, but Charlotte was also an air-archer, and having someone who could manipulate the winds would be quite handy when out at sea—as long as she was on Bex's side. Right now, Charlotte was complaining about everything from the size of Bex's humble boat to the fact that the shield-fire was making her too warm. "And you definitely didn't have to wear that dress."

Charlotte snorted softly. "My riding clothes are all being cleaned. I only had dresses left."

"Of course." Bex took a deep breath and concentrated on the shield-fire. Charlotte knew about the spell now, of course, as did Paige and William, one of her most trusted senior knights. He was currently watching their progress from one of the cliffs, making notes about when the boat was visible and when it was not; Bex had also asked him to report on if he saw fire aboard the boat and to describe it as best he could. "Well, we aren't all giants, you know. I made this boat primarily for me, and for me it's a perfect fit. Also, fire is naturally hot—"

"I'm aware of that. But this is _magic_ fire," Charlotte insisted, rolling her eyes as she fanned herself with a small burst of air from her fingers. "Can't you make it . . . not hot?"

Letting out a long breath like a dragon expelling smoke, Bex turned to face the air-archer. "I probably could," she admitted through clenched teeth. "But right now, my goal is to make the spell work _at all_. Once I get it working reliably, _then_ I'll work on the fine details, like making the temperature more suitable for princesses wearing five fucking layers of skirts."

Charlotte blew Bex back with a slight gust, but made sure not to let her fall. "It's a legitimate concern! You're not always going to have an air-archer with you to propel your boat, which means you'll either be relying on the waves or on oars. The rowers will be sitting right next to the shield-fire, and they'll already be getting warm from exertion. You don't want your crew to overheat and collapse, do you? Because then if you get boarded, you're not only exhausted from the spell, but your crew won't be able to help you either."

Bex had to admit Charlotte had a point. The air-archer had expressed several keen insights over the afternoon, much to her surprise. She was every bit a princess, from her bearing to her expectations, but when given the chance to be, she was so many other things: insecure, curious, clever, funny. Bex almost hated seeing the princess version of her around the castle now because it felt so false. "That's true. I'll have to work on the base spell." She sat down and rubbed at her eyes. The spell seemed to have worked on her way from Ireland to England, but since she only encountered any vessels when she was close to the English coast, it was hard to gauge how successful she had been. "And I need to make it adjust for movement and wind. Fuck. It'll never work. There are too many factors to consider."

"Hey. Don't think like that, Bex." With no consideration for her dress, Charlotte shuffled over to the fire-forger. "It's a great idea. It just needs to be developed. Do you think the first ship-maker designed a warship perfectly on the first try? Or that the first sword was made with a flawless blade? Of course not. We learn by doing, and mistakes are part of that."

"Mistakes are one thing," Bex replied. "Burning people up is quite another." Then she stood up again, calling to the flames. To her, the spell was like a stone wall and the trick was getting all the separate components to fit just right so it wouldn't collapse. She twisted a bit of energy here and raised a bit there, taking her time so she didn't undo the parts that were doing their jobs just fine. "Is that any better?" she asked the air-archer.

"It's cooling down," Charlotte said after holding her hands closer to the flames for a few moments, allowing herself a buffer of air she could use to save herself if need be. "You should take a rest. Why don't you concentrate on keeping the shield-fire up, and I'll propel the boat?"

Bex looked through her flames to the rugged coast. "What about William, though? It's hardly fair for him to sit on lookout while we're sailing about for fun."

Charlotte grinned. "I can take care of that." She cupped her hands to her mouth and said, "We're done with our experiment. We're going to sail for a while. We'll be back before sunset." Then she curled her fingers as if she had a ball and mimed throwing it high above the flames.

"You can throw your voice?" Bex was impressed. Perhaps there was more to the princess than she ever imagined. "That's handy."

"It is. Very useful for when I'm . . . busy and I don't want to be found out. It has limited range, but I've been working on it." They were still close enough to the cliffs that they could see William get on his horse and ride off, so they assumed Charlotte's message had been received and understood. "There. Now which way would you like to go?"

Bex wasn't terribly fond of steering her boat, so she shrugged. "You're guiding it. You choose."

"Let's go east for a bit. I promise I'll turn around and get us back so we don't get William in trouble with the queen." Charlotte held her hands out palms up on her lap and shut her eyes. "It's just nice to be out of a castle. I'm grateful for everything Paige has provided, of course, but out here—"

"Out here you don't have to be a princess," Bex finished for her. "A life of privilege doesn't mean a life without problems. It just means you probably have very different problems than I do." She debated how much to share about her life. Paige had probably told Charlotte some things already, since both women had a fondness for late-night wine drinking that Bex didn't share, but Bex knew that sharing them herself would make the facts carry a different weight than hearing them second-hand. "I've always wanted to be a warrior, but I had to stay out of battle after an injury."

Charlotte nodded absently, swaying with the rhythm of the waves. "Like Paige."

"Similar, yes. But Paige could follow her dreams a different way. I couldn't—or at least I couldn't find another path." Bex stared into the shield-fire until her vision blurred. "So I've been trying to work my way back ever since. Through training, through magic, through . . . through anything I can try. I don't know who I am if I'm not fighting for something."

"My father wants me to marry a prince and continue our legacy," Charlotte replied. "He says he wants my opinion, but it won't matter in the end. He'll choose the suitor he likes best, and right now his favourite is. . . ." She seemed to struggle for a suitable word. "Not a nice man. He's strong and clever and has a legacy behind him as storied as mine, but there would be no love there, no respect. And yes, I know that's not always a given in royal marriages. But it's what _I_ want, and if that means I have to leave my family to get it. . . ."

Bex was quiet for a moment. She would never have to deal with the particular problems Charlotte described, and she was grateful; she wouldn't have the first clue how to be in a relationship where she didn't care for the other person at all. "Are there any suitors who are . . . bearable?" She hadn't heard all the details of the distraction made by Charlotte's attendant and one of Paige's knights, but Bex still understood the gist of it and assumed that Charlotte wasn't one to shy away from a dalliance if it suited her. "One who might be open to an . . . understanding?"

Charlotte's shoulders shrugged lightly, but her expression didn't change. "Maybe. I'm sure many of them are nice enough when it comes down to it. But I don't want _nice enough_. I don't want to spend the rest of my life sneaking moments of pleasure when my husband's away. I want the kind of relationship someone like you can have."

"Someone like me." Before Charlotte could try to soften it, Bex laughed it off. "It's fine. I know what you meant, more or less. One of the benefits of being a warrior is that as long as you do your job, no one much cares about the rest. As opposed to being a queen, where doing your job means having people care about _every_ facet of your life, whether you like it or not." With a laugh, she added, "If Finn were looking for a bride, I would introduce you to him."

"Finn." Charlotte's eyes were still shut, but her lips moved in a soft smile. "That's the first name I've heard you say with warmth. Who is he to you?"

"He's . . . a lot of things. Officially, he's a prince," Bex began, feeling ill-equipped to describe him in a way that did him justice. "But we trained together and when I had to quit . . . he was there for me. He and my family saved me. We call each other sister and brother," she added with a chuckle, "because people were starting to think we were already wed."

"Maybe you should be," Charlotte teased, opening one eye just to wink at her. "If he adores you half as much as you do him, then you two would be well—"

She never got a chance to finish and Bex never got a chance to retort because their boat crashed up against something as solid as rock. "What was that?" Bex swore. "There shouldn't be any islands out this way. . . ."

"Who said that?" a voice on the other side of the flames demanded. "Who did that? Bayley, why aren't we moving?"

"There's a hole in the boat, Sasha!" That was a second voice, pitched high and laced tight with panic. "We're taking on water!"

Bex altered the shield-fire spell for a moment to use it to read the heat in the voices—and the people behind them. There was anger there, but that was more about the damage to their boat. The concern, the panic, the confusion: none of it was laced with aggression or ill intent. "I'm lowering the shields," she whispered to Charlotte, who had finally opened her eyes and was preparing to fight.

"Wait. What? Why?" Charlotte grabbed for Bex's arm, but the shield-fire was already dwindling away, leaving them looking at two women in a boat perhaps two or three times the size of theirs, minus the hole caused by the collision. "Who are you?"

One of the women stood angrily, the sudden motion making a cloth wrap fall away from her head and reveal hair the colour of the ocean "Who the fuck are you? Where were you hiding? We were just sailing along and then all of a sudden there's a hole in our damn boat!"

"Sasha, don't." The second woman tried to hold the first one back, and Bex was struck by her sense of surety; she seemed to have a gravity all her own. "The redhead. Look at her hair."

Swearing, Bex tried pushing some of her curls over her shoulder, but she knew it would be no use. Her hair got increasingly bright whenever she used her fire-forging powers, so it was probably as red as mistletoe berries. It certainly wouldn't be a shade natural to human hair. "I can help fix your boat—"

Charlotte, however, was using her haughtiest royal voice. "Why should you help them? They hit us!"

"No, we didn't!" Sasha, the blue-haired one, surged over to the side of their boat, making more water slosh inside. "We couldn't see you, so how could we even try to avoid you? There's nothing out here to see. You hit _us!_ What were you even doing out here? Why was your ship on fire?"

Bex's eyes went wide. "You saw that?" She thought she had dissembled the spell too quickly for any of them to notice.

"Only at the end," Bayley said quickly, easing Sasha back from the edge of the boat and trying to bail out some of the water using what appeared to be a bowl. "When you were . . . taking it down?" She looked up at Bex with a mixture of wonder and confusion. "Are you a . . . flame-former or something?"

"Fire-forger," Charlotte corrected quickly, standing guard beside Bex. "And I'm an air-archer, so who the hell are both of you? You'd better answer before I suffocate you."

Bex gave her a sharp look. "So I can't help them, but you can tell them what powers we have?"

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves and do something about the damage to our boats," Bayley suggested, tossing out more water. Once she had removed enough, she crouched down and pressed her hands to the wood. "I'm Bayley, and I'm an earth-etcher." Her hands seemed to pulse with amber light as the wood knotted back together like a scar. "I'm better with soil, but I can work with trees a little bit." 

Sasha had been gazing out to sea, her eyes gone misty, but she snapped to attention when Bayley nudged her. "Sorry. It's just . . . there's so much of it," she breathed, voice full of rapture now, not rage. "The water. I grew up in a landlocked place, so this . . . this is magic to me." She held a hand out palm down and the water swirled up her arm like an elaborate bracelet. "I'm Sasha. I'm a water-weaver."

For as blissful as Sasha looked, Bayley was decidedly more on edge. "And I'd really like to find some land soon. Any land. Since you're here and going the way we came, I'm hoping that means the shore isn't too far. . . ."

Ignoring Charlotte, Bex reached over and pulled Sasha and Bayley's boat closer to hers. "If she can manipulate water," she said, glancing over to Sasha, "you won't have a problem reaching the shore." Then she pressed a hand to the area that Bayley had patched up, conjuring up some small flames to seal it. "It's not a permanent fix," she warned, "but you won't have to worry about it bursting open before you reach land. I'm Bex."

"The fire-forger," Bayley echoed, grinning widely. "This is amazing! All though my childhood, I thought I was the only one with powers like this, and now I've found three others in less than a moon!" If she wouldn't have jeopardized her boat, she probably would have jumped up and down in delight. "Do you two know of any others?"

Charlotte remained steadfastly silent, making Bex elbow her in the side. "You've already told them you're an air-archer, you idiot. There's no harm in telling them your name." When Charlotte shrugged one shoulder and turned to the side, Bex rolled her eyes. "Fine. She's Charlotte. She's an air-archer. And a princess," she added with a note of irritation, "if you couldn't tell."

Sasha looked Charlotte up and down and then sneered. "Oh, we could tell." Then she softened slightly as she turned to Bex. "How's your boat? Can you fix it?"

"If we're both heading to the same shore," Bayley piped up, either oblivious to the tension or cheerfully ignoring it, "why don't we try to . . . connect our boats and work together? Sasha can even out the waves for smooth sailing. Charlotte can get a favourable wind, I'm guessing. Bex and I can repair the boats so they're seaworthy—or at least seaworthy enough to get us to land." Then Bayley paused. "So what was that fire supposed to do?" she asked sheepishly. 

Bex grimaced a bit. She hated telling people about her plans until she had them perfected, but Bayley's enthusiasm was infectious. "I call it shield-fire. It's meant to block my boat from being seen and protect it from attacks, but the spell obviously still needs a lot of work."

Bayley nodded encouragingly. "I only saw it once it got down to the boat's rim, and that's probably because of the wood. Sasha couldn't see it at all until I pointed it out to her."

The water-weaver didn't look pleased at the confession, but she didn't comment. "How's your boat?" she repeated. "I can help bail you out."

"That would be appreciated," Bex replied. They hadn't taken on a lot of water, but with both her and Charlotte standing and moving around, more kept creeping in. She and Bayley both pulled the boats in line with each other and Bex ran a line of flame between them. "It won't hurt you," she assured them. "This way we won't have to worry about the ships drifting apart."

"I wouldn't call that a worry, Bex," Charlotte muttered, going to the back of their boat to prepare for directing the winds. "More like a blessing."

"We can leave your boat here," Sasha offered with mock sweetness, "with you in it. There's enough room for Bex with us. I'm sure with your . . . blowing skills, you'll get home on your own."

While those two quibbled, Bayley shot Bex an apologetic look. "Sorry. We were going to buy passage on a boat, but then Sasha wouldn't have been able to use her powers openly. We didn't think it was going to be that bad of a voyage, so we figured we could handle it. . . ."

Bex couldn't help but smile. There was something about Bayley that reminded her vaguely of Finn: her genuine nature, perhaps, or an inherent goodness that didn't compromise her strength but rather enhanced it. "Neither of us were paying enough attention to where we were going," she confided quietly. "And we should have been, because this could have ended far worse. If we had collided with a warship—" She didn't bother finishing. Bayley may have come from a landlocked place, but she probably still would have heard what fates befell captives aboard a warship.

Once she and Bex had the boats securely joined and all the damaged spots patched up enough to make the rest of their voyage safe, Bayley turned to her friend. "Sasha, are you ready?"

The water-weaver strolled to the end of the longer boat and dipped her hands in the water, looking pointedly at Charlotte the entire time. "I'm ready." All of a sudden waves started cresting around them again and Bex realized that all throughout their arguing and their repairs, they had been isolated in a tiny sea of calm waters.

"About time," Charlotte muttered, raising her hands to the skies. Overhead, pale grey storm clouds were starting to gather. "Those aren't mine, but I don't want to bother them if I don't have to. I prefer not to push against nature if I can avoid it, especially where weather's concerned."

"Then let's go and hope we get back before we get caught in the rain," Bex suggested. To her surprise, despite all the animosity simmering between Sasha and Charlotte, they managed to set sail without capsizing. Each of them had an opportunity to use their powers on the way back to the English coast, and it felt like equal parts bragging and basking. It was definitely a way to show off their individual powers and their mastery of them, but also a rare opportunity to use them openly, around people who would not only not be afraid of their magic but understand it, respect it, appreciate it. It was a fraught familiarity, but it was still a kinship like no other. All Bex knew about Sasha and Bayley were their names and their powers and a few personal facts, but each time their powers surged, she felt closer to them.

When the English coast was finally clearly visible—and well within their promise of before sunset to William—all four women were exhausted, but pleasantly so. It was like the joy of a job well done, the warm haze after good sex, the indulgent satisfaction of being just a touch too full after a rich meal. Even seeing Paige fuming on the shore couldn't dim Bex's elation, though she did feel bad for William at the queen's side. "What are you doing?" Paige demanded, sweeping forward across the sand.

"Another princess?" Sasha muttered as she helped ease the twinned boat onto the beach. "Great."

Thankfully Paige didn't hear Sasha's comment as she bore down on Bex and Charlotte. "What happened? Where did you go? William said you sent him . . . an air bubble or some bloody magic thing, saying you were just heading off to sail around the coast—"  
" _We're going to sail for a while,_ " William echoed, sounding vaguely haunted by the experience. Bex really couldn't blame him. If she had heard a voice coming out of a bubble, she would be disturbed as well.

Charlotte nodded regally. "And I said we would be back by sunset, which we are. So what's the problem, Paige?"

Paige shot the air-archer a dark look. "The problem, _Princess_ , is that you left unaccompanied when you know my lands are under attack and not only that, but then you bring back two strangers—"

Bayley stepped up easily. "I'm Bayley. I'm an earth—" She stopped suddenly, looking to Bex. "Do they know about you two?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Bex nodded. This was turning into one of the strangest days of her life, and they still had the entire evening to get through. "Yes, they know."

Taking that as an invitation, Bayley kept on. "I'm an earth-etcher and Sasha," she said, introducing the blue-haired woman, "is a water-weaver."

Paige threw her head back to the sky and swore. "What the hell is going on? First there's fire-forgers and air-archers and now there's water-weavers and earth-etchers! What's next? Stone-singers? Metal-morphers? Wood-warpers?"

Bayley perked up at the last. "Actually, I can use my powers on wood a little bit. I patched up our boat after we collided out in the sea. . . ."

"Bex." Paige turned to the fire-forger and shot her a pleading look. "Why did you bring them here? When there's already so much going on?"

The fire-forger could only shrug. Strategically, she knew it was one of the worst moves she could have made. She should have left them out in the middle of the ocean, but the thought had barely crossed her mind. Each new elemental she met broadened her perspective and gave her hope; maybe some day she would meet another fire-forger so she could learn more about her powers, but for now, just knowing there were others somewhat like her—with similar fears and concerns—was incredibly heartening. It wasn't a fate she would wish on anyone, but if they were already afflicted, she hoped she could learn from them and help them in turn. "They're like me," she said softly. "Like Charlotte."

It made Paige relent a bit. "Fine. But only for a few days," she declared firmly, "and Sasha and Bayley have to stay either in the castle or on the grounds. No sneaky escapes." She held Charlotte's gaze for a moment. "No experimental excursions." The next glare went to Bex. "Very few people here know what Bex and Charlotte can do. You need to keep your powers secret while you're here." For the first time since the four women landed, Paige seemed calm. "Sasha, you'll have to do something with your hair. Bex, you too. _And no more elementals!_ " With a dramatic swirl of her skirts, she motioned to William and they both started up the path to the castle, leaving the four elementals alone together on the beach.

"Now what?" Bayley asked. "Do we just . . . leave the boats here?" She motioned for the other women to step back and then moved the sand underneath the joined boats to bring them further up the beach.

Bex nodded. "They'll be fine. We can work on them tomorrow. You might as well enjoy supper, at least. The queen always has plenty of wine."

Sasha's eyes went wide in disbelief. "That was the queen?"

Thinking of Finn, Bex smiled warmly. "Yeah. The monarchs are a bit different in these parts."


	8. Chapter 8

"I suppose if I have to be imprisoned," Sasha declared, sinking down to her shoulders in the steaming castle bath, "this is one of the best possible places. Was this supposed to be a punishment? Because it seems like it's way more vexing to her than it is for us."

Bayley lingered by the wall of the bath, elbows propped up on its edge. After spending so much time at sea, she had seen quite enough of water to last her for a while. "Don't you miss the ocean, though?"

Nodding, Sasha submerged herself, trying to get a better feel for the castle's water. There were more minerals in it, so it would likely turn her hair more green than blue. "I do," she said when she resurfaced. 

"But this is also . . . solid. This castle isn't going anywhere, not without a lot of work. With my mom and brother, we had to move so often. They've always been home to me, not the places where we stayed, but. . . ." She sighed and floated on her back for a while, staring up at the ceiling. "It made me learn to appreciate stability. Staying power. I'd go to local villages to work and get supplies, and travelling was always fun—but there was nothing quite like seeing my brother waiting for me when I got home, you know? What about for you, Bex?" She would have thought the fire-forger would have been even more averse to water than Bayley was, but Bex seemed to enjoy the lounging baths almost as much as Sasha did.

"Do I mind the castle, you mean?" Bex's vibrant red hair looked like a current of blood creeping across the water. "No. I've known Paige for a while now. I did some of my training with her and her mother, so it's a bit like home. I'm not one for all the fancy things, but she knows that and mostly leaves me be. The baths are always nice and warm, though, which I appreciate."

Charlotte shot her a strange look. "You can literally conjure flames. Why don't you just . . . warm yourself up? If you can hold a boat together with fire, why can't you just raise your body temperature?"

Bex laughed. "That's my shadow, or at least that's what my dad called it: the darkness that follows the power. It's my . . . consequence. I can make fire, but the fires I make can't warm me up. I imagine if I sat in front of it all day long, I'd feel something, but it takes far too long to be useful." The fire-forger glanced down at the water warily. "Don't any of you have something like that?"

Sasha's gaze slid over to Bayley, wondering if the earth-etcher would share. She had heard Bayley's story several times—not that she was complaining—but she knew it was a sensitive point for her. Maybe if Bex's story had a tragic note to it, like burning down her childhood home before she gained control over her powers, Bayley would have felt more comfortable. Hoping to give her friend some time to decide what, if anything, to share, Sasha cleared her throat, flipping around so she could face the other women. "I'm always thirsty. Always. It's worse after I've used my powers a lot, but it never really goes away. It can dry out my skin too. What about you, Princess?"

Charlotte glared at the water-weaver. While Bayley and Bex seemed to get along with all of their fellow elementals, Charlotte and Sasha had started off badly and were continuing on in the same vein. She tried to shrug off the question, but it was clear that she was uncomfortable. "It's minor. It's nothing. You'll just laugh at it. Bayley, what's yours?"

"No." Sasha flicked a bit of water Charlotte's way, which she deflected easily with a wave of air. "You first. You don't get to listen to the rest of us lay our hearts bare and get to go last so you can pick and choose what you want us to know. You'll probably say something _My hair is always tangled_ anyway." Sasha floated over to Bayley and murmured something into her ear.

Still glaring, Charlotte swam a bit closer. "It affects my hearing, okay? Not only what I can hear, but what I _do_ hear."

Bex looked confused. "But you did that voice bubble when we were off the coast," she said, pointing the farthest castle wall. "I thought you could amplify sounds. . . ."

"I can," Charlotte confirmed, running her hands through her wet hair so she had something else to focus on. "But it has a downside, just like your fire. Sometimes it makes me hear things that aren't there or it twists them just enough to change the meaning. That's why I always travel with attendants I can trust, like Alexa and Dana; if I look confused or seem unsure, they'll whisper in my ear." Holding up her left wrist, the air-archer showed them a large but simple cuff bracelet. "This was enchanted for me," she added, "and it lets me hear some people without doubt, but only so many voices can be added to the spell." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she made herself stop.

"What is—wait." Bex stopped abruptly, thoughts spinning in her eyes. "You haven't added any of us to your spell," she added slowly, "so why don't you have your attendants here?"

"I can go without them for periods of time," Charlotte amended. "Mercifully. Otherwise it would make sex very awkward. But . . . I don't know. You three are different. Maybe it's because you're elementals too? Even when I first met you on that beach, Bex, your words were so clear—well, except for that accent of yours." She finished with a playful wink and sent a splash of water at the fire-forger.

"You were going to say something else," Bayley interjected softly, "and that wasn't it. What else do you have to watch out for?" When the other three women all looked at her, she simply shrugged. "We're going to be together for at least a few days, right? And maybe longer. I mean, before now, before us, had any of you met another elemental?" When the other three shook their heads, the earth-etcher continued. "We're rare. And there are a lot of people who would exploit what we have, so we have to be careful. Who's more likely to look out for us than ourselves? Maybe we should stick together."

The air-archer looked like she wasn't going to reply for a moment, but Bex went over and slung an arm around her shoulders, murmuring something by her ear that made her smile. "Compliments," she said softly. "They all sound empty to me. I thought it was just a princess thing at first: you get so used to people trying to flatter you, to make you happy, that after a while it doesn't feel genuine. But it's more than that. I don't know how to explain it. When I was training with my brother, I could be the fastest rider, the most accurate sword fighter—the bravest, the strongest, anything, and it would never sink in. Reid would be so happy for my achievements," Charlotte recalled, expression darkened with mourning. "And I couldn't feel anything at all. So I've tried to take my father's pride and my sister's joy and make them my own, but they're just echoes."

The sombre confession made the other three women fall silent for a long while, the only sound the eerie echo of the water's movement. "My powers don't work on my family's land," Bayley said at last, gazing down into the water. "Worse than that. My gift," she continued, nearly choking on that fateful word, "basically destroyed their farm. And then when their land was dead, the neighbours started to be affected, so I left. My parents have worked so hard for that land, for our family. They don't deserve to be chased away by some superstitious idiots." She sat on the edge of the bath and kicked her feet lazily. "They have such good hearts. I miss them so much."

Sasha swam over and patted Bayley's knee. "I bet they miss you too. When I send another bottle to Joshua, I'll ask again if they've managed to find your family."

"Send a bottle?" Bex must have had enough of the water too, because she hopped out and sat beside Bayley. "How do you plan to get it from England to there? By sea, obviously," she said, cupping her hand and scooping up some water, "but can you extend your powers that far?"

Sasha shrugged, barely making the water ripple. "I'm not sure. I'll try a spell and see. I never put anything in the bottle that would expose my powers or Bayley's—or yours, now. I don't know if any of them have arrived, to be honest. I hope they do, though. I miss him and my mom a lot, but I know I needed to get away, even if only for a little while. I needed _this_."

"A fancy bath in a castle?" Bex teased, kicking some water in Sasha's direction. "You could have just raided Castle Flair. You wouldn't have needed to cross a damn ocean and they must have a nice bath or two in there."

When Sasha turned to Charlotte, she expected to see an offended look on the princess's face, but her expression was more curious than chilly. "You could raid my promise gifts too," she said. "There must be a small fortune in there. Bayley, I know you would miss the land you grew up on, but your parents could buy a new plot somewhere else and maybe you could . . . enchant it, right from the start. Then you wouldn't have to keep your distance."

"I don't know if the curse would follow me," Bayley replied, more to herself than anything. "My parents were always determined to stay, so I never had the chance to—"

"And Sasha, you and your mother and brother could pick a permanent place to settle." Now that she was fantasizing, Charlotte seemed to be lit up from within. "No more worrying about resources. And Bex." She turned to the fire-forger last, as if unsure what gift, what idealized future, would suit her best. "You could hire the best healers, the best trainers. You could be the warrior you've always wanted to be."

Bex rolled her eyes. "If your ancestral castle is anything like this one, there are layers of defences: guards, moats, gates, traps. The three of us would never get in and out unscathed."

"Who says there would only be three?" Charlotte replied, joining Bayley and Bex on the edge of the bath. "I don't want to be married, not right now and not for the reasons my father wants. In time, I will. For myself, for the memory of my brother, for the longevity of my family, I will. But right now I need to be myself. I need _this_."

Bayley and Bex were both dubious and Sasha supposed she couldn't blame them, but as someone who was used to struggle just to get by, she wasn't about to let a golden opportunity go to waste. "These promise gifts: how do they work? Do you get to keep everything or just the stuff from the guy you would end up marrying?" Charlotte came from a world so completely different than hers and Sasha didn't think she would ever adore the air-archer the way she had come to love Bayley in such a short time, but she was gaining a grudging respect for the princess. If nothing else, she didn't back down.

Charlotte nodded. "As far as I know. It's their way of saying they're worthy, that they could provide a suitable life for a princess." If she expected the others to laugh at that, they didn't. "There's everything from gold to jewellery. One even gave me swords."

Bex perked up at that swords. "Swords? What kind? Who made them?"

"I didn't get that good of a look at them, Bex," Charlotte laughed indulgently. "I headed out to Paige's the next morning. Besides, the sword-giver would be my least favourite suitor, so I didn't want to be swayed by fine craftsmanship."

The fire-forger didn't do a great job of concealing her disappointment. "But if you get to keep them regardless," she pointed out, "a good sword is priceless. . . ."

Bayley watched Sasha swim back and forth in front of them, her gaze sombre. "Are you sure that's what you want, Charlotte? A forced marriage is an unpleasant thing, to be sure, but at least you still have your family right now. If I go back, I endanger my parents' livelihood. What if you end up changing your mind? Would your father welcome you back?"

Charlotte's enthusiasm waned, making her shoulders slump. "That's true. And it's not fair to place that burden on my brother and sister. Besides, if he wouldn't accept me back, I would have nowhere to go."

Bex bumped her shoulder lightly with her own. "You have us," she said simply. "We might not have a castle and you might have to take your baths in a river—"

"Hey!" Sasha reared to attention. "Speak for yourself!"

Bayley giggled. "She got mad at me for just putting my dirty hands in her river. I don't think she's going to let anyone bathe in them when she's around. . . ."

"But we could work together," Bex finished, swatting at the other two. "Or at least try. Bayley was right: it took us all this many years just to find other people who control the elements, and then we all meet each other in a matter of days or weeks? That's not the kind of thing you ignore."

"She," Charlotte said firmly, pointing at Sasha, "would have to stop calling me _Princess_ all the time. You know my name."

"And _you_ ," Sasha countered, "would have to stop _acting_ like a princess." She wasn't ready to get out of the water quite yet—the minerals in the bath were working wonders for her skin and hair, restoring her from the outside in—so she kept swimming back and forth in front of the other three, the movements so natural she didn't even have to think about them. 

She had known Bayley the longest out of them all, but even Sasha was surprised when the earth-etcher said, "We could just make it look like a theft. Then that way, if Charlotte changes her mind and wants to stay at the castle, she can. Bex and Sasha and I could make a plan and steal a bunch of the treasure, and if Charlotte wants to leave with us, she can and . . . and if not," she added, a note of sadness creeping into her voice, "we give her a gentle knock over the head so it looks like she put up a fight."

" _Gentle,_ " Charlotte emphasized. "But you would still have to get in the castle. You're obviously not suitors, and my father hires very few women as warriors and I highly doubt you would want . . . the other positions women are typically filling in the castle."

Sasha made a disgusted face. "Definitely not. What if we let ourselves be caught so we were taken to the dungeons?" Now that she and Charlotte were both scheming, she found the air-archer much more tolerable. "How difficult would they be to escape from?"

Charlotte grimaced. "Very. Reid and I used to play down there when we were young and we locked our sister in one of the cells, not knowing that the dungeon guard had gone to the neighbouring town to visit his family—and he had the only key. Father eventually had to have the entire cell door destroyed just to get her out." With a lopsided smile, she added, "Not one of my more regal moments."

"I don't know about that. It sounds pretty princess-like to me." Sasha finally came to a stop, resting her chin on Bayley's knee. "So being captured won't work, because it will either endanger us if we have to use our powers to escape or it will implicate you, which would limit your options. I could probably come up through a well," she added, "but I would need time to bring Bex and Bayley. I couldn't manage them both at once, so the well would need to be unguarded for a while. Is the guard someone you'd fuck?" 

The air-archer's eyes went wide. "Excuse me? You're talking about my home and the people who protect it—"

"Listen, _Charlotte_." It had taken effort not to use _Princess_ , but Sasha was at least trying. "You've already admitted to dalliances. I'm not judging. I'm not even saying you need to have sex with him. But is it someone you could distract with the _idea_ of sex? We could give you a signal when we were in and then you could . . . say you heard your father calling you or something."

Bex started wringing out her hair, and the colour was still so intense Sasha was surprised the red wasn't seeping into the water. "Guards change shifts, Sasha. They change times as well as positions. That's a deliberate measure _against_ plans like these."

But Charlotte shook her head slowly. "I don't think the well is usually guarded. Father mustn't consider it a large security risk. But how would you get in the well from the outside?"

Sasha waved away the concern. "Leave that to me. And Bayley." She smiled up at the earth-etcher. "When it comes to wells, we're a great team."

"Fire's not going to be too useful in this endeavour," Bex noted, letting a small flame curl up on her palm like a sleepy kitten.

"You're more than your powers," Charlotte reminded her. "And there's going to have to be a hell of a lot more to this plan to make it work. The jewels should be bagged up beforehand to make it easier, but on the other hand, that might look suspicious. You'll probably have to explore the grounds to get a sense of the layout and the guard movements, but you would have to keep far enough away that you weren't seen. I'd be able to sneak away here and there, but—"

"Charlotte!" One of the princess's attendants ran into the bath, politely averting her eyes when she saw the other elementals. "I'm terribly sorry. I don't want to intrude," she stammered, "but Paige is on her way. I don't know what she wants."

The air-archer stood quickly, reaching for a robe. "Thank you, Dana. You should leave before she sees you here." After her attendant scurried away, Charlotte had a frightened look in her eyes. "That was foolish of me. We shouldn't have been speaking of such things so openly. Anyone could have come in and overheard. . . ."

Sasha pointed firmly down at the water. "My element, remember? It's not just in the bath. Feel how humid the air is. I would have known if someone was hiding."

"You never said Dana was coming," Charlotte retorted, gesturing to the doorway where her attendant had just appeared.

"You never gave me a chance!" Sasha pressed her lips together. This wasn't the time to be petty, not when all four of them were on the cusp of having dreams realized. "Paige is in the outer room. Happy? So either dry off or get back in the water."

Bayley opted to stand, joining Charlotte over by their bathing robes, but Bex slid back into the water. "It's warmer," she said with a laugh. Sasha wove a quick heating spell on the water cradling the fire-forger so she would feel like she was in a cozy cocoon.

"Ladies!" Paige's voice took on a spiralling echo in the bath chamber as she entered, wearing a robe of her own. "Am I too late to the party? I was hoping we could all chat away from the attendants. I know you probably don't want your powers widely known."

Sasha and Bayley exchanged a glance. Bayley was strong and smart, but sometimes not the savviest. Sasha was trying to teach her how to be more shrewd, and from Bayley she was learning to be more tactful; it was hard to say if either was successful, but Sasha didn't include her interactions with Charlotte when it came to trying to be nicer. "No, we don't," Sasha said simply. Looking up at Bayley again, "I think Bayley's had quite enough of water for a while, though."

Bayley nodded quickly. "I was thinking Bex and I could start working on repairing the boats," she blurted before remembering Bex was still happily in the water.

The fire-forger caught on quickly, though, paddling over to the side of the bath and hauling herself out. "You're right. I'll just have to dress extra warm."

Slipping out of her robe, Paige laughed. "You know there's plenty of knights here who would be more than happy to warm you up, Bex." Glancing at Charlotte, the queen waved her forward and added, "You're not going out to play with boats, are you? Come sit for a while!"

Sasha would have far preferred Bex or Bayley for company, but she supposed boat repairs weren't very princess-like activities. Forcing a smile, she waggled her fingers. "I can warm up the water for you."

Charlotte gave Bayley and Bex a quick glance before they started their retreat. "You can show us your work after dinner," she told them as she tossed her robe to the side again. Sasha could tell she was trying to convey something with her tone. "And if you see Dana, please tell her I'll require her later to assist with my gown."

The water-weaver assumed that was some sort of code for _Tell her to make an excuse for me to leave_. Bex nodded simply, rubbing at her face with her sleeve. "We will. Enjoy your chat. We'll be down at the shore if you need us."

Paige waved at them. "If you want any help, take whoever you'd like. They know you're all my guests."

_We're guests now,_ Sasha mouthed to Bayley, making her friend smile. It was a mere day or two ago that Paige was throwing a fit on the shore, demanding to know why Bex had brought such potential threats to her lands. "The baths are so lovely," Sasha gushed once Bayley and Bex were gone. The effusive tone might have been forced, but the sentiment wasn't; the mineral bath made her feel more invigorated than she had in months.

"Thank you. I've always enjoyed them. Charlotte, your father must have something similar, I imagine?" Paige waded lazily through the water, admiring Sasha's green hair as she floated past. 

"He does. It's a favourite of mine as well. A nice place for quiet and introspection." Charlotte gathered her hair and wound it into a loose bun, securing it with a long strand. "Father, of course, has hosted some notorious revels there."

Paige's laugh boomed through the bath chamber. "I can imagine! As will you, when your day comes. Will you be keeping court at Castle Flair or be moving to your husband's lands?" Assuming Sasha didn't know about Charlotte's impending engagement, the queen shot her a pitying look. "Our lovely Princess Charlotte has the best suitors across the continent vying for her hand."

Sasha didn't comment on the fact that Paige was allowed to call Charlotte _Princess_ ; her mother had always taught her that the rich lived by one set of rules and imposed another on those they ruled over, so it was hardly surprising that the two royals would treat her like some ignorant wretch. If nothing else, it would give her a chance to toy with Charlotte a little bit. "Is that so? I've always wondered how that process works." She shot Charlotte a sweet smile. "Does one king meet with another and see if their children are a good match, or is it simply political: uniting lands, increasing fortunes, those sorts of things?" 

Charlotte glared at her as much as she dared with Paige present. "It's not quite so brutal as that—"

"Oh, don't lie, Charlotte!" Paige tossed a handful of water into the air to watch it sparkle in the dim light. "You know it's mostly about power. Sometimes you're lucky and you get to marry someone you enjoy, maybe even love, but that's rare. It's all about expanding territory. For example. Ric—that's her father—wants Charlotte to marry Randall. In theory, that means they're all family. So Randall shouldn't try to take over Ric's lands, because that's his father-in-law. And Ric, in turn, shouldn't attempt anything in Randall's territory, because that's his son-in-law—not to mention most princesses move to the husband's lands, not the other way around." Sensing she might have upset Charlotte, she added, "But I'm sure Ric will always have room for you at Castle Flair. In time, that will fall to David, I expect, since Megan will marry. . . ."

Paige prattled on, discussing family lineages and legacies, but Sasha was watching Charlotte, noting how her eyes went dull and her whole body seemed to be on guard. She might have enjoyed the luxuries of being royalty, but it was clear that the air-archer didn't fit into that world as well as Sasha or anyone else might have thought. Bayley had spoken of feeling the urge to make a change and Sasha had felt that too; maybe all four of the elemental women were answering a call, finding each other just when they needed companions the most.


	9. Chapter 9

_Are you sure we can trust them?_ The concerned question came to Charlotte through one of the air bubbles she kept sending to the other elementals, and she knew it was from Sasha before she even put it to her ear. 

The plan to rob Castle Flair was still very much a work in progress, so Bex, Bayley, and Sasha were keeping their distance from Charlotte's entourage. Bex's shield-fire had kept the elementals' boat from sight across the channel so well that Charlotte couldn't even spot it when she knew where it was. Being separated from the others bothered her more than she wanted to admit, even more so because she knew on the elementals' boat, she would be treated as an equal. Sasha would tell her to refocus the winds before the sail fell, Bayley would be asking her all sorts of questions about the horse stables at Castle Flair, and Bex would probably still be talking about the damn swords.

After a tedious portage—made all the more difficult by the other three elementals trying to stay hidden—both groups were now back in the water, this time a river that would take them most of the way to Castle Flair. Charlotte thought the forest where they would disembark would be a good camping site for Bayley, Bex, and Sasha: there was lots of natural coverage, they would have access to the well, and they would be close to their boat if they needed to make a quick getaway. From her days training with Reid, she knew some of the guards and knights had a tendency to attack with impunity. _Dana, Alexa, Carmella, and Lana have all been my attendants for years. They've helped me out of a lot of hard situations. Yes, I trust them_ , Charlotte murmured into the bubble, launching it back towards the other elementals before any of her attendants noticed.

"What's wrong?" Still rowing, Dana looked back at the princess. "Are you still thinking about which prince to pick? Theodore seems nice."

Alexa rolled her eyes. "Randall would be a much stronger choice. Imagine the Flair line combined with the Orton line! No other legacy would even come close."

Listening to her attendants debate the strengths and weaknesses of her more popular suitors—including some speculation about each man's sexual prowess—Charlotte was struck by how much she missed the other elementals. _Even Sasha,_ she thought, much to her surprise. Between their time at Paige's castle—which the English queen graciously extended if only because the elementals' antics amused her—and their current voyage, they had only spent a few weeks in each other's company, but she felt closer to them in many ways than some people she had known since she was a child. They had seen some of her ugliest flaws and weaknesses and, when confronted with them, they either reminded her of her formidable strengths or turned her insecurities into jokes in such a way that she could laugh at them too. It was the kind of bond she wished she had with her sister, but the rigours of being princesses—and specifically King Ric's daughters—had made Megan feel more like a workmate than a sister in many respects.

Charlotte felt a slight tug in the air, the signal that the elementals had a reply ready to send. It was an imperfect system and she was sure her attendants suspected something, but she hoped they would assume she was trying to sneak a lover into the castle, not three women about to attempt one of the most daring thefts she had ever heard of. Fidgeting with her fingers as if petting a kitten, Charlotte reeled in her next message. From the warmth of the air, she could tell it was from Bex, which made her smile. The fire-forger's accent was often befuddling to her, but she loved listening to it all the same. _Is the rest of the way that difficult? Maybe we should hold back. Sasha's getting impatient at going so slowly. . . ._ Charlotte could almost imagine the water-weaver's indignant glare at that, and how Bayley would hide her chuckle behind her hand.

 _They're only using oars. You're using the river._ When Charlotte glanced up, Lana was giving her a strange look, so she let the bubble linger by her side for a few moments. "How much longer until we reach the forest?" she asked, injecting a note of imperiousness into her voice. Once upon a time it had come naturally, but after spending so much time with the other elemental women, she found she was speaking more comfortably, more casually. "My legs are getting cramped. I would like to stretch."

Carmella gestured to the bank. "We can stop whenever you like, your highness. Do you want to stop now? The water is quite muddy here, so I wouldn't recommend it. . . ."

Charlotte cradled her bubble closer to her side. Sasha had already complained a few times about the attendants' blase treatment of the waterways and Charlotte was trying to correct their bad habits without being too obvious. "No, that's fine. I was just hoping that we were close so an extra stop wouldn't be necessary, that's all."

Dana perked up. "Does that mean you've made your choice?"

The air-archer sighed again. To her attendants, the whole thing probably seemed enchanting: marrying a prince, moving to a foreign land, continuing her family's legacy. If she showed too much reluctance, they would think she was ungrateful. "I know I want to speak to my father first," Charlotte answered vaguely, "but after I've had a chance to recover from our travels."

Lana stopped rowing for a moment and half-stood, peering ahead. "I think I remember this stretch." Then she looked up at the sun, or what they could see of it through the canopy of the trees. "I think we should definitely arrive well before sunset. Then one of us can run back to the castle and fetch some guards to accompany—"

"No!" It came out sharper than Charlotte intended, so she took a deep breath and added, "I'm not in the mood for an onslaught of questions. Besides, I would like to surprise my father. There's not much to carry; we can manage it. And no one will dare harm the boat since we're already on Flair lands."

Now Alexa looked suspicious. "Are you sure? That's a long walk, your highness."

"Then I'm glad I'm wearing my riding clothes." Charlotte was down to her last set, regrettably. One had been somewhat burned accidentally when she underestimated the range of Bex's shield-fire and the other set had been nearly worn through; after Sasha and Bayley's arrival in England, Charlotte had been wearing her riding clothes more than her gowns, many of which she left back with Paige to keep their boat lighter. "Don't worry: I'm more than capable of helping to carry our things."

All the attendants dropped their gazes at that, murmuring apologies and such, and Charlotte took advantage of their fumbling. _We're not far. We'll arrive before sunset. Stay in the forest for now. I'll come find you when it's safe,_ she hissed into the bubble quickly before tossing it behind her as she stretched. Out loud, she added, "Unless you want to dally and spend the night in the forest?" That spurred the attendants back to action and Charlotte glanced back, hoping she hadn't misdirected the bubble. It would still get to the other elementals, but too many detours would dull its accuracy.

By the time they reached the somewhat secret docking area—the river was too narrow to be used for a large-scale attack, so the family used it mostly for leisure—Charlotte still hadn't felt a tug of reply, so she was starting to worry. _Damn Bex's shield-fire,_ she thought as she peered downriver, trying to spot any sign of them: a ripple of hot air, the wake of their boat, the branches of trees rising out of their path. Sending speech was hard enough; she had very little success in sending images. But she would have to leave the elementals some sort of path, so she started creating small bubbles with simple directions, careful to keep them in order: _Stay in the forest. Avoid the outpost; it's unmanned, but still checked occasionally. Don't eat the green berries._ She made a dozen in total, all sparkling like tiny stars to her eyes, and she tossed them into the water under the guise of thanking the water spirits. "I know it's an old custom," she said when she caught Alexa watching her, "but there's still some truth in the old ways." She picked up a bag—not the heaviest, of course, but also not the lightest—and started to walk, leaving her attendants scrambling to catch up.

It was a struggle to remain focussed on the conversation of her attendants as well as the uneven forest floor while trying to detect the progress of her bubbles, and she almost cheered when she felt one reach an elemental. Then the rest popped in her ears in quick succession, almost making her lose her balance, and she hoped all three elementals didn't reply at once; she would never be able to maintain her facade if they did. "Perhaps I spoke too soon about not wanting the guards to greet us." It was part joke and part whine, made purposefully to make the attendants remember the roles. 

As they reached the part where the river took a sharp bend to the south, Lana spoke up. "One of us—"

Charlotte shook her head. "It's best if you go in a pair," she said. "Strength in numbers." There likely wasn't any danger ahead of them in the forest—that title lay with the elementals coming up behind them. She could feel them through the air now, hauling their enchanted boat out of the water and lugging it through the trees, trying to mind all of her scattered suggestions. _Hide the boat,_ she sent quickly, hiding it with a cough.

Dana's eyes went wide. "Oh! Are you feeling sick, your highness?" She shouldered Charlotte's bag along with her own and motioned for Lana to take the princess's arm. "Come along. It's not really that far. Let's hurry and get you home."

 _'Hide the boat', she says._ That bubble, clear and sharp, was pure Sasha. _We weren't exactly going to put it on the castle's doorstep._

Charlotte thought about telling her to visit the moat right under the chute where the castle's waste would pour out, but she refrained. Even if she didn't join them in the heist, they were still all in it together. _I'll sneak out after nightfall. I'll try to bring food, but try hunting just in case._

She wasn't sure which elemental intercepted that reply, because she didn't get a response before she and her attendants finally reached the castle. When the answer came, she quickly tucked it in her pocket to listen to later. "Charlotte!" Robes fanning out behind him, Ric shuffled towards her once they were in the courtyard. "How was England? How was Paige? Tell me everything."

Dana started to mention how tired Charlotte was, but the air-archer patted her arm. "Thank you, Dana, but it's fine. Let me go to the baths first, Father, to get the dirt and grime of two different nations off my skin. Then I'll be happy to tell you everything—over wine, of course. Paige's stock was absolutely woeful." The arrogant attitude felt more like a performance now, but she knew her father would expect nothing less.

"Of course, sweetheart!" Clapping his hands, Ric started directing attendants, both his and hers. "Take her things to her chamber! You, prepare the bath! You, fetch the best wine and tell the cooks to prepare a private supper!" Then he spun on his heels and went back into the castle, leaving Charlotte to follow one of his hapless retainers to the bath.

As soon as she was alone within the cavernous bath, Charlotte wished she had simply asked for heated water to be brought up to her chamber. This was luxurious and comfortable—and incredibly lonely. Stepping in the water made her think of Sasha swimming, utterly graceful and at ease. The warmth and the steam reminded her of Bex and how she made fire dance along her palms when she was trying to weigh her options. The stone accents shared Bayley's sturdy, surprising beauty. Such places were meant to be shared, and now Charlotte finally had people in her sphere she would gladly share them with, but they were stuck out in the forest, waiting for her word. So she washed up quickly, only taking a few minutes to bask in the warmth and loosen her weary muscles before drying off and putting on a clean dress. When she couldn't find her riding clothes, she caught up with a laundress and asked, "Did you see a pile of clothes near here?"

The woman nodded slowly, as if the princess were drunk. "Yes, your highness. Ruined by the road and the river, they were. I took them away to be burned." Only then did she pause. "If you like, I can fetch them back. I'm sure they haven't met the fire yet."

Charlotte shook her head. If she was heard being sentimental about some old, raggedy clothes, people would start to question what happened in England. For her friends' safety if nothing else, she had to act as normal as possible—which for her meant haughty. "Excellent. Thank you. I almost couldn't stand the smell of myself." Then she swanned off towards the private dining hall the king reserved solely for himself, his children, and the choicest company. _What if Randall or one of the others is still here?_ she thought suddenly, slowing her pace. But as she neared the door, she heard nothing but the smacking of lips her father always did—much to her annoyance—after having a particularly good drink. "Hello, Father," she said, stepping inside. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long." The table was already laden with a feast and rather than being annoyed that he hadn't asked her what she might like to eat after travelling for so long, Charlotte was already trying to devise ways to sneak food out to her friends in the forest. 

"Not at all, sweetheart. Not at all." Ric rose and kissed her cheek before pulling out her chair. "Come. Sit. Eat! Tell me all about your travels. Did your time with Paige help you reach a decision?"

 _Does it matter?_ Nothing would have changed. Her father would still arrange for the marriage he thought was best—best for him, first and foremost, and then for her. "Do you think it would be wise to meet with them all—under your eye, of course—to get to know them? I know you're fond of Randall," she added, hoping her disdain didn't colour her tone, "but sometimes the most obvious choice can end up being the least compatible one."

Ric nodded thoughtfully. "That can be true, yes. There are many factors to consider, of course, and I know some of the princes and their families are already withdrawing their suits because they don't think they stand a chance against Randall. But Theodore is still interested and a few others—yes, perhaps another feast! We must welcome you home properly, after all."

Charlotte smiled wanly and sipped at her wine. "That sounds lovely. And what a pleasure to have proper wine again!" That got her father distracted, talking about getting more wine for the upcoming feast and then something David had done; when he mentioned Hunter, Charlotte nearly choked on her food, but he simply mentioned that her presence was missed at the wedding and that it was a gorgeous ceremony. "My apologies. It completely slipped my mind." That, at least, wasn't a lie; while the Skull King had been a constant but quiet shadow in her thoughts, she had totally forgotten about his upcoming marriage to Princess Stephanie. "I will send my well wishes first thing tomorrow. I do hope King Vincent wasn't too upset at my absence?"

Ric shook his head. "He has a daughter. He knows how important a good match is. And Stephanie wished you well at your upcoming nuptials," he added.

"How kind." _Of course she did,_ Charlotte thought. _She was probably glad I wasn't there so she didn't have to worry about Hunter's eye straying to me._ She let her father ramble for a while longer before she faked a yawn. There were no windows in this dining hall—it was near the centre of the castle, and could double as a retreat for the royal family in case of invasion—but it felt late and she still wanted to try smuggling some food out to the other elementals. "Father, how soon do I need to make a decision? Does it need to be now?"

The king seemed startled by her sudden questions. "Well, sweetheart, you're of age and if you want to have children, you should be starting soon. And no prince will wait forever, not even for a princess as exceptional as you. . . ."

It had been foolish to say anything and Charlotte regretted it. She could have easily let him get drunk and prattle on; the feast would take at least a week to plan and organize, so she would have time to either help her friends or send them on their way. _I could steal some gold from the coffers, pay them for their troubles. . . ._ But the thought was so abhorrent that it made her shiver. Bayley, Bex, and Sasha weren't they type to be paid off and shuffled away; they were better than that and they certainly deserved more from her. "I know. I just . . . I feel like I need more time."

Ric leaned over and patted her hand. "The feast will help. If you mingle more, talk to the princes, I'm sure you'll see how promising they all are."

 _'Promising',_ Charlotte thought grimly. _Not 'nice' or 'kind' or even 'handsome'._ She was starting to feel like a prized cow being paired up with a strong bull in order to make the optimal offspring. "You're right. I'm just tired. A good rest in a proper bed will help clear my thoughts. Do you mind if I retire early?" Gesturing at the remains of their meal, she added, "Could I have some sent up to my room in case I get hungry late in the night? My legs are so sore; I don't think I could make it up and down all those flights of stairs."

"That's why you have attendants, Charlotte!" Ric's hearty laugh echoed off the stone walls. "But of course, sweetheart. Anything you want. Take from here or raid the kitchen: you choose. We can throw out whatever you don't eat in the morning."

 _What a waste_ , Charlotte thought as she stood and kissed her father goodnight. Now that she knew how much Bayley and Sasha and even Bex had struggled, it was hard to look at all the opulence around her and not feel suffocated by guilt. "Thank you. It's so good to be home again."

"It's good to have you back," Ric agreed. "We'll talk more in the morning. Perhaps we can go for a ride through the forest."

"That sounds lovely." Charlotte turned and hurried towards the kitchen before her father could see the panic rising in her eyes. It would be too hard for the elementals to hide from a complete riding retinue, and they wouldn't want to camp out in the forest for a week or more until the suitors' feast. She would have to make a decision, and soon. Once she reached the kitchen, she grabbed an empty vegetable sack from the floor and started to survey the offerings. "I'm retiring early," she told the cook's assistant, who was looking at her rather curiously, "but I want to have a snack ready in case I wake up hungry."

"We have trays, your highness," he said meekly, holding one out to her.

Charlotte shook her head. "I want to keep it covered. My window will be open," she fibbed quickly, "so I don't want any birds getting at it." When the assistant started to protest again, she silenced him with a look. "Leave," she ordered, waving her hand dismissively. 

All the staff scuttled away in a hurry, wanting to escape her wrath. She heard one of them say something like _Maybe she came back pregnant. Wouldn't be a surprise, would it?_ But she let it slide, her mind on more pressing matters than her reputation. She didn't dare smuggle out utensils, but all the elementals carried knives; they would simply have to eat with their hands. She tried to grab a mixture of things—bread, meat, fruits and vegetables—without depleting any stocks. Then she snuck out of the kitchen, cloaked herself in a blur of air, and crept past guards, attendants, and countless others to get outside.

Once she reached the forest, Charlotte hastily dropped her spell and searched for answer bubbles instead. When she couldn't find any, she sent out some questions instead. _Where are you? I brought food._

A moment later, she received a reply. _North of the old outpost. Bex is sending some sparks._

Before Charlotte could question it, she looked to the north and saw a blink of light. A moment after it was extinguished, another took its place, this one a bit closer. _I wonder if she can sense things through them the way I can through air,_ Charlotte thought to herself, moving towards the sparks. Judging from their discussions, Bex's powers seemed to be the most limited, but now the air-archer wasn't so sure. As she neared, the sparks seemed bigger and brighter, and she thought she could see a campfire in the distance. _Bex?_ She spoke the fire-forger's name into a dozen bubbles and fanned them out in front of her to drift on a gentle evening breeze.

 _This way!_ It was Bex's voice and yet it wasn't; part of the fire-forger was undoubtedly in the sparks, but not in the same way as Charlotte could launch her voice or someone else's. Beneath Charlotte's feet, the path seemed to flatten out unless she started going the wrong way, in which case it grew bumpy.

 _She's alone._ Charlotte felt Bayley's voice come up through her feet, rumbling through her bones. A blink later and Charlotte could see that she was just about to trip over their camp. "Sorry," Bayley murmured, rising to greet her. "We wanted to be sure you weren't here under duress."

Charlotte handed her the sack of food and sat beside Bex at the campfire. Despite wearing several layers and sitting close enough to the fire to singe her eyelashes, the fire-forger was still shivering. "How can you be cold?" the air-archer asked.

"My power's twist, remember?" Bex thrust her hands directly into the flames. "Bayley made this one, so it helps a bit, but—"

"But we're not going to be able to stay out here night after night while you're in your nice castle," Sasha replied. The light from the fire made her hair look purple. When Bayley handed her a loaf of bread to split up, she mumbled, "Thank you." 

Charlotte wasn't entirely sure who Sasha was thanking, but she didn't press the point. "My father wants to go riding in the forest tomorrow. I'll try to guide him away from this spot, but be ready to hide if I can't. I'll find you in the afternoon and we'll talk."

Sasha narrowed her eyes. "You've changed your mind. You're backing out."

"No! I don't know what I'm doing yet. Now my father is talking about having another feast for the suitors, though, so whatever else happens, you have to be gone before they all arrive. Between the princes themselves, their families, and their attendants, the land will be crawling with royals." Charlotte sighed deeply. "You won't be able to hide. But don't worry. No matter what I decide, I'm still helping you. Tomorrow, when we have daylight on our side, I'll show you where to access the well. Bayley might have to do some digging, but it shouldn't be too difficult for you."

"Why would you decide to stay?" Bex's voice was softer than Charlotte had ever heard it, and it made her think of a bruise, tender and dark.

"It's . . . it's hard to explain. You all have your reasons for the choices you've made," Charlotte said defensively. "And I don't necessarily understand them or agree with them, but they were yours to make. This is mine." Then she stood abruptly, tugging on Bex's side braid affectionately. "I wish you could all be here as guests. As friends." The confession had slipped out unguarded, and she stammered as she continued. "I'll find you in the afternoon. That should be enough food to tide you over until the morning. Sleep well." Then she cloaked herself in blurred air again and ran back to the castle. The temptation to stay out there with her friends was too great, just like the difference between their lives and hers. Charlotte was too used to comfort and control and wasn't sure what to do in a world where she was guaranteed neither, but the more time she spent with the other three elementals, the more she wanted to try giving up the comfort of familiarity for the chance, the mere chance, of real friendship. Reid had always told her to weigh risks versus rewards, and when it came to her fellow elementals, there was little doubt which side would win out.


	10. Chapter 10

Back when she was on her family's farm—or, in later years, trying to avoid their land so she didn't ruin it further—Bayley had often dreamed of having a adventure. Now that she was in the midst of one, she wasn't quite so keen. She had also fantasized about seeing a castle, but after camping outside of one for two days and trying to avoid being detected by the knights and guards, that quickly lost its appeal as well. Charlotte had been visiting them as often as she could to give them food as well as information to help with their planning, but it felt like the bond that had been blossoming amongst them as they left England was starting to wilt.

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Bayley said as she, Sasha, and Bex were reassembling their boat. It would be too risky to leave it in the river, but there were some trees with canopies large enough to hide it—with a bit of assistance from the earth-etcher. Then if they had to make a quick getaway, they wouldn't have to waste time trying to get the boat back in once piece. "Charlotte still hasn't decided—"

"Or maybe she has and she just hasn't told us." Sasha ran a wet hand along a length of wood as if painting it, casting a small spell to help ease the boat's passage through the river. Then she handed it to Bayley. "She's got a good life here, Bayley. She never has to worry about food, clothing, money."

Bayley held two boat slats together while Bex joined them together with a nearly white flame. "But she can't pick who she marries—"

"Lots of people can't," Bex interjected, voice dull. She had spent more time with Charlotte than they had, and the air-archer's absence was hitting her the hardest. "Most women, anyway."

" _I know_ ," Bayley insisted, "but . . . it just seems like people see her as a way to get to her father. That must feel horrible. At least the three of us know that people are our friends or allies because they see something in _us_ , not our family's legacy."

"Not if they know about our powers." Sasha ruffled the earth-etcher's hair. "I know what you mean, Bayley, but all in all, Charlotte has a fairly safe life. Even she doesn't like whoever she eventually marries, as long as she has a few kids, she can pretty much do as she likes. Almost all of those kings and queens are unfaithful. It's only a problem when they aren't discreet about it."

Bayley was quiet for a moment. So many people mistook her enthusiasm for naivete, and growing up in such a remote location hadn't helped, but she knew a lot more than people gave her credit for. "But it's still not safe. Or right." She just stopped herself from saying _or fair_.

The water-weaver dipped her hands in a bowl of water to prepare the next piece of wood. "How much about your life was _safe_ or _right_ , Bayley? Bex?" Then Sasha shook her head. "Charlotte is the only one who can make this decision. We all had to choose for ourselves. We could have chosen to stay in England or go back to our homes or almost anything else, and making that decision wasn't easy for any of us."

"That doesn't mean we have to make it harder for her," Bayley countered. When she felt the ground begin to shake beneath her, she took a moment to calm herself. "And we don't have to pretend that it's not hard for her either." Then she pointed at the castle, looming over them even at a distance. "I understand not wanting to leave that behind. But I don't think that choosing _that_ means she wouldn't miss this—miss _us_."

Before either Bex or Sasha could reply, there was a gust of wind on what had been an otherwise still day and then Charlotte was standing just outside their camp. When she saw them reassembling the boat, her expression fell for a moment. "You're leaving?" She waved a scroll of paper in her hand. "But I brought. . . ."

Bex rose easily and shook her head. "No. Not yet, anyway. We just wanted to have the boat ready in case we had to leave in a rush. That last riding party came awfully close to our camp. I barely got the fire dampened, and we're lucky Sasha's hair didn't drip on them from the tree."

Sasha shot her a sharp look. "You mean _they're_ lucky because if they would have tried pulling me out of that damn tree—"

"I brought a map. Plans, I guess. Of the castle." Charlotte knelt and spread the scroll open over the flattest spot of ground in the vicinity. "It just shows the . . . plumbing, the attendant called it. The well, the waste shoots, those things." Aiming a glare of her own at Sasha, she added, "I told him I was hearing strange noises during the night and I wondered if it could be from the well. I thought it would be something I could reference later on for the theft. It means you'd only have one shot at using the well as a way in, but if you take enough with you, one time should be all you need."

"Bayley and Sasha should be able to get in and out without a problem," Bex added, suddenly subdued, "since Bayley can tunnel in and Sasha can access the well, but I don't know if either way is safe enough for me. If something went wrong and I' ended up buried underground or deep in the well. . . ." She didn't finish and she didn't have to; neither death would be quick or pleasant.

Charlotte's eyes went wide. "Maybe . . . maybe I could sneak out some armour for you and you could pretend to be a guard? I'd try to pass you off as one of my attendants, but most of them saw you in England and they would recognize you."

Bayley couldn't help but laugh. "And then there's that accent." She wrapped an arm around Bex's shoulders and squeezed. "And don't say you would be quiet, Bex. I think we all know by now how impossible that is for you."

"As impossible as it is for you to go an entire conversation without hugging someone." Bex said it warmly, though, and returned the embrace. "I wish I could travel through fire, but I haven't practised that enough to trust it in a situation like this. There are other things I could do. I could stand guard at the well's exit or—"

"I could shield you with a spell!" Charlotte blurted. "We could create it together. I could make the base and make it . . . powered by heat somehow, so you could keep it going with your flames."

Sasha narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so intent on having all three of us in the castle? Are you going to set us up?"

Bex and Bayley both stiffened at the accusation, but Charlotte barely batted an eye. "If I wanted you to be caught, Sasha, I could have had you captured a hundred times over by now. Making a splashy scene in the castle would only hurt me, because you'd start yelling something about 'our plans', which would cast suspicion on me. If I were going to betray you, I would do it far more quietly. I want all three of you in there so you have the best possible chance of success. On our own, we're all great. Together, though, we could be unstoppable."

"We could be," Bex agreed, "if we'd stop butting heads and actually work together—"

" _We_ ," Bayley echoed, voice soft with hope. As much as she would have loved to have met another earth-etcher, meeting three people with other powers was even more intriguing and she wanted them to stay together as long as possible. "Does that mean you're coming with us?"

"It means I'm working with you," Charlotte answered evasively. "And I'll help you in the castle. But other than that, I'm still not entirely sure. I know what I think I want, but . . . we'll see. Whichever way I go, though, I'm not going to betray you. I promise you that." When she looked at Sasha this time, it was with fervent sincerity, not malice. "We should do it tomorrow. The first prince is arriving in the morning, so there will be some commotion, but not too much—enough to hide in, but not enough to add too many people to the equation." Then she turned to Bex. "Do you have time to collaborate on a spell, or do you need to keep working on the boat?"

Bayley would have happily found a way to burrow Bex safely into the castle, but she could also understand the fire-forger's concerns. Being that far underground and essentially powerless would be terrifying, just as it would be for her to try to stand in the middle of a fire. "Sasha can keep treating the wood," she said, nudging Bex, "and I'll start preparing the canopy so it's ready for the boat. Go on. Charlotte's right: a spell is the safest way to get you inside, and we need you there." She added the last both because it was true and because she felt like the fire-forger needed to hear it. Her power might appear to have very limited functions, but Bayley was sure there were untold layers to it that Bex could master with the support of the other elementals.

Bex didn't look entirely convinced, but she went over to Charlotte anyway. "Well, we'll see what we can do—and then see if you can . . . not see it, I suppose."

"Just let us know when you're ready for a demonstration," Bayley agreed, standing up as well. "Do you think we'll have to put water in the canopy as well, Sasha, or will that just make the boat more likely to slip out before we're ready for it?"

When Sasha didn't answer right away, Bayley turned and saw her watching Bex with a mixture of irritation and worry. "I don't know why she's wasting her time. Charlotte's going to choose to stay home and then Bex is going to get her heart broken."

Bayley frowned as she started to climb the tree. "Why are you so intent on thinking the worst of Charlotte? She could have told her attendants we were following at any time, and she didn't. She brought us out food and blankets. She's showing us how to steal her treasure, Sasha! If _anyone_ suspects she had something to do with it, she'll probably get in a lot of trouble."

Sasha wasn't convinced, though. "What's 'a lot of trouble' for a princess? _Sorry, Charlotte, no wine for a week_ , maybe? Or _No new gowns for a month_?" She shook her head as she watched Bayley's footing. "If she gets caught, she gets an inconvenience. If _we_ get caught, we'll be killed. No more bottles to Joshua. No setting up a new farm for your family. No return to Ireland for Bex." Sighing, she added, "I want to believe her. I do. But I don't think there's some inherent sisterhood to our powers that binds us. She's always going to be a princess; that will never change. And if she's always a princess, then that means we're always going to be beneath her, and I refuse to believe that I'm lesser than her just because she grew up in gowns while I was lucky when I had scraps."

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Bayley didn't think Charlotte see the other elementals as anything other than equals. She might have been arrogant and presumptuous, but they all had flaws, and they could all work on those flaws together. Hadn't Charlotte said that the other elemental women were the only people she felt like she could instinctively trust right away? _Bend with me,_ Bayley asked a branch politely, trying to gently angle it down. She didn't want to damage its natural growth, but as much as she hoped she would have a chance to reverse her alterations, she knew it wasn't likely. Whether they succeeded or failed, if they were fortunate enough to get away, they were going to have to be quick about it. "We're strong," Bayley said simply. "Water, earth, fire: it would be three against one. We might have to expose our powers, but if we had to, we could use them to get away safely. I'm sure of it. But I think we should give Charlotte the chance to prove herself. I know what it's like to be underestimated and in a way, that's what we're doing to her right now."

Leaning against the tree, Sasha grumbled. "I don't think you're capable of underestimating anyone, Bayley. You're too nice for your own good. But I guess you're right. Charlotte deserves her shot. The instant it looks like she's going to betray us, though, I'm drowning her in her own saliva."

Bayley wanted to laugh, but she didn't doubt Sasha in the least. The water-weaver had grown up with a fiercely tight family, and it seemed that Bayley and Bex were already under the shelter of her loyalty; Charlotte, however, was going to have to work for her spot. "Remind me never to make you angry."

Sasha softened at that, smiling up at her and holding a thin branch out of Bayley's way. "You could never. You wouldn't even know how."

They worked like that for a while, Bayley up in the canopy, bending branches to form a cradle for their boat, and Sasha assisting when and how she could help. _Hey!_ One of Charlotte's bubbles popped near Sasha's ear, making her flinch. _When you two can take a break, come back to camp_.

"She shouldn't have done that," Sasha groused, rubbing her ear as if it had been slapped. "She could have startled you and made you fall out of the tree."

"I would have had a soft fall." As soon as Bayley climbed down and reached the ground, she knelt and patted the earth. "Thank you. I'm sorry to warp the tree this way, but it should return to its regular shape in time. And Sasha," she added, smiling at the water-weaver, "will talk to the river and keep it healthy."

Sasha didn't reply, but gave the tree's trunk an awkward pat before following Bayley back to the camp. Charlotte was visible right away, but there was no sign of Bex. "Where are we supposed to be looking?" she asked.

Charlotte smiled, but it wasn't a smug expression; it was weary and a bit tight, but also wide with the satisfaction of a job well done. "She's within your line of sight. Walk around the camp and tell us if you can see anything that looks out of place."

"You mean like a shimmer in the air or something?" Bayley went one way and Sasha the other, walking in slow circles. Waves of blurry heat rose from the campfire, but other than that, Bayley couldn't see anything in the air that would make her suspicious. "I can't see anything out of place," she said at last, starting to sit on a log. Worrying that Bex might be there, she leaned over and patted the log gingerly, felt nothing but rough wood, and sat.

"Okay. Sasha, does anything look strange to you? If you—either of you—had to pick a visible spot where you thought someone was . . . invisible," Charlotte asked, going to stand alongside them, "what area would you pick? And don't use your powers to try and sense her; we're trying to fool guards and knights, not other elementals."

Bayley shrugged. "Bex likes fire, so. . . . " Narrowing her eyes and taking a second slower look around the camp, she still didn't have a clear answer. "Over there, maybe? By the slats we've already joined?"

Sasha shook her head and pointed to a spot on the other side of the camp where they hung their wet clothes to dry. "By the shirts," she proclaimed.

Grinning, Charlotte shook her head. "Bex?"

A few steps in front of them, there was the faintest orange shimmer in the air, like a spray of sparks, and then Bex appeared. "Could you really not see me or were you just saying that to make us feel like we made progress?"

"I couldn't. Maybe if I tried to feel through the ground," Bayley admitted, "but like Charlotte said, the guards won't be able to do that." She leaned forward and grabbed Bex's arm, yelping at the heat of it. "Yow! You're hot!"

Bex grimaced. "I know. Normally, I'd welcome the warmth, but we don't want me to overheat either. We might have to get Charlotte to sneak me in the castle and I'll only activate the spell when I need it." Then she looked over at Charlotte. "Back to work?"

Charlotte nodded. "I probably won't be missed for another hour. Then we could always do a small trial run. You could come close to the castle—from the side opposite to the camp, of course—and I could tell a guard I thought I saw something. Then we can see how it works on someone else."

"That's risky," Sasha remarked. "What if he can see her? What if the spell falters?"

"It's one guard." There was a strange, detached chill in Charlotte's voice that made Bayley lean back. "I can take care of him if I have to. Come on, Bex. Back to work."

As if pulling on a pair of pants, Bex made a quick upwards gesture and she had vanished again. Even as they looked at the space where she had just been and then in the immediate area, Bayley and Sasha couldn't spot her. "If you could add a nice spring breeze to the spell," Bex replied, her disembodied voice lingering in the air, "that would be nice."

Bayley watched Charlotte for a moment or two before turning back to Sasha. "I think the tree canopy is good for now. I can make changes when we actually have the boat completed. Let's work on that." Without Bex to join the pieces together, there was only so much they could do, but Sasha anointed each slat with water and Bayley coaxed them into the necessary shapes and curves, setting the pieces together loosely. "When I was younger, I thought I would never see the sea, and now I've sailed on it. I didn't think I would ever be on a boat, and now I've not only been on one—twice!—I've helped build one. I thought I would never find anyone like me, and I found three amazing, powerful women." Her eyes started to fill with tears and she did them the honour of letting them fall. All the emotions she had felt in the past few weeks—from homesickness to fear to elation—were louder and more vibrant than anything she had felt before. It was almost overwhelming, but she wouldn't give it up either.

About to cry herself, Sasha hugged the earth-etcher. "I would say you found four." When Bayley shot her a confused look, the water-weaver smiled. "I don't think you understood how incredible _you_ are until you left home. I don't think you even fully grasp it now, but you at least have an idea. You're so smart and strong, but those are both things that anyone can learn. You're also kind, and that's a hell of a lot harder to become."

"Thank you. I'm not so sure it's always a good thing," Bayley noted. How often had she helped out farmers in nearby villages and yet none of them would share their bounty with her family? True, she hadn't assisted them with the expectation of anything in return, but her mother had always taught her that kindnesses should be passed along. "But I think it helps more than it hurts sometimes."

"I think so too." Sasha helped her place the boat pieces in the proper places and they were almost done by the time Bex returned, fully visible and faintly flushed from exertion. "Charlotte's going to try sneaking out again tonight," she told them as she sat down, admiring their work. "Wow. You never realize the boat is that big when it's in the water. You two did an incredible job. Just let me have a little something to eat and then I'll start joining everything together."

"Take your time," Bayley told her, sitting beside Bex and rubbing her back. She wasn't as hot as she had been after the spell reveal, but the fire-forger was definitely tired. "Sasha can look at the plans and figure out the best way for her to use the well." In truth, she had forgotten about the map Charlotte had brought out. The others were more focussed on getting the treasure out, but Bayley was more concerned about them. Anyone who could amass such wealth wasn't likely to part with it easily, and though she didn't necessarily doubt Charlotte, Bayley was worried that they would meet more resistance than any of them expected.

"Do you think if I joined all the pieces at once," Bex asked thoughtfully, "that it would be stronger?" She stretched out her leg and nudged one of the already-connected pieces with her foot. "It shouldn't make much difference when we're dismantling it, but maybe it will make it more harmonious. The flames would be harder to hide, though."

Sasha pointed up to the tree canopy. "I think it's going to rain. I can use that to create a blur that would shield you."

"And if we're doing the theft tomorrow, we can sleep light tonight," Bayley added, "and pack up as much as we can now before we stow the boat." Looking around their camp, it seemed so chaotic: an unbuilt boat in the middle of the forest, a ragged scroll detailing plumbing plans, pilfered bits of food in a sack. And yet all those random elements could add to more wealth than all three women had ever known in their entire lifetimes. "What are we going to do if we pull this off?" Bayley breathed. "Honestly. I know I want to help my family and Sasha wants to help hers and you want to train, Bex, but . . . do you really think any of us can go back to those things if we manage to do this? I mean, I'm terrified right now; I'm shaking so much. But I've never felt more _alive_ , and I'm not going to get this feeling back on the farm." She remembered how rapturous Sasha had looked out on the open ocean, the contentment on Bex's face when she was engulfed in flames. None of them were meant for simple lives. "If we can do this for us," she added slowly, "we could do it for others. Steal from all these cruel, greedy kings and queens and help out the villages, protect them. We always hear of the raids that destroy; we could do the same thing, but to create. We could create new homes for all our families, for all the people who are struggling."

"Bayley . . . I know I said kindness is a good thing," Sasha began, "and it is, but it has limits. To pull off thefts on that scale, we'd need a better boat—no offence. We would need armour, weapons, gear. We would need a home base where we kept all our loot. I don't know about you, but I don't know the first thing about running a village."

"We could learn." Bex's soft voice surprised both Bayley and Sasha. "Or we could appoint someone. No one's saying we'd have to be there all the time. Farmers farm, healers heal, and we. . . ." Laughing, she trailed off. "I wouldn't call them raids, but yeah. If we can do this—if we can pull it off and learn from it—we could absolutely make things better for people. For a lot of people. My father always used to call my power a gift. Gifts are meant to be given, right? Maybe this is the kind of thing we're meant to use it for."

As Sasha and Bex started to discuss what they could do and what the costs would be—both monetary and emotional—Bayley couldn't stop herself from smiling. They both considered her the kind one, the soft-hearted one, and yet there they were, already trying to plot out future thefts and thinking about what sort of help they would need. If goodness couldn't bring them together, maybe a challenge would.


	11. Chapter 11

Bex had never thought about breathing much before. Her body handled that for her, allowing her to focus on other things. Now she was very much out of her element, however, and every push of air out of her chest seemed to grate against her ears. It became obvious very early on that burrowing into the castle with Bayley wasn't going to work: she and the earth-etcher tried a few small practice tunnels around the campsite and Bex froze up every time, unnerved by her inability to see or move while underground. Her attempt with Sasha in the river hadn't gone much better, though it did at least clean away the dirt. Now she was a wet, shivering mess by the campfire, and the other three elementals were all trying to calm her down.

"Bex." Charlotte was kneeling in front of her, holding her hands. "We can use the spell. It works. We know it does. How many times did we test it?"

"But that's out here," Bex mumbled. "In the fresh air with hardly anyone around. We'll be in the castle and there will be people everywhere: the foreign prince, your father, your siblings, knights, guards, courtiers, cooks, attendants, retainers—"

"Attendants and retainers are basically the same thing," Charlotte interjected gently. "Yes, there are always a lot of people in the castle, but they're rarely in the same area at the same time unless there's an event, and the princes' feast is still days away. You won't even encounter half of those people you mentioned, I promise."

Bayley sat beside Bex and squeezed her shoulders. "You are one of the strongest people I know. You sailed from Ireland to England by yourself in that tiny boat! I could never do that. And you're not doing this alone. Charlotte will be with you and then Sasha and I will be inside so quick you won't even have time to miss us."

Bex's laugh sounded more like a gasp for breath, but she rested her head against Bayley's for a moment. "I just have a bad feeling about this, that's all. Like I'm going to ruin everything somehow. . . ."

"Don't be absurd." Sasha sat on the other side of the fire-forger. "You know what you're going to do? You're going to cast that spell with Charlotte and you'll creep into that castle and the _only_ problem you'll have is trying not to laugh at how ridiculous everyone is." Charlotte shot her a look, but Sasha ignored it as usual. "Then you're going to steal some jewellery— _not the swords!_ " she added emphatically, which made Bex smile. Her interest in the swords was well known among the elementals and now she realized if she had wanted one, she should have kept quiet about it. "And some gold and all that stuff we can trade or spend easily. Then we'll be out of there and before you know it, we'll be back on our boat and our only worry will be if we fortified the boat enough to hold all that glorious treasure."

 _And all of us_ , Bex thought bleakly, _but WHICH of us?_ Charlotte still hadn't said whether she would be going with them or staying at Castle Flair, but at least Sasha wasn't doubting her loyalty to the plan anymore. "You're sure?" she asked, holding the air-archer's gaze. Though it made her feel a bit guilty, Bex had to admit she had the tiniest doubts about Charlotte. Bayley and Sasha would both be able to make getaways using their powers without hurting anyone, but Bex would be at Charlotte's whim as long as the blurring spell was in place. All the air-archer had to do was change her mind and then Bex would be exposed on the spot. "This is your father, your family, your home. If you don't want to do this anymore. . . ."

"I'm still helping you all. That hasn't changed." Charlotte didn't elaborate on her own fate, however; she simply kissed Bex's forehead and stood. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Bex pulled Bayley and Sasha into a huddle for a quick moment before standing. "Okay. Let's go. Everyone remembers the meeting spot?" To keep things simple—and to keep the others safe in case one member was caught—none of the elementals knew the others' routes: if they were interrogated, they couldn't tell what they didn't know. Bex knew that Sasha was coming up through a well, but she wasn't sure where the well was; likewise, Bayley would be tunnelling in to one of the lower levels, but the fire-forger didn't know a precise location. She herself would be staying as close to Charlotte as possible to keep the spell strong, and they would all meet in the treasure room. Charlotte had instructed her attendants to give her a signal—though they thought it was just so she could sneak away for a tryst—and that would be their cue to leave, no matter where they were or how much treasure they had gathered . . . if any at all. That was the point of the plan where failure was most likely.

Sasha nodded. "We're good, Bex. Go on. And don't take all the nice rings either." She winked at the fire-forger and nodded at Charlotte. "We've got our bubbles," she added, "and we know how to use them. We're good."

Charlotte had crafted two bubbles for the other elementals to use in case of an emergency. They would only work once and they could only carry five words each, so Sasha and Bayley would have to make them count. "Good luck. To all of us." Then she held out her arms. "Whatever happens, whatever choice I make tonight, I wanted to thank all of you. These last few weeks have been loud and messy and terrifying and annoying, and I can't remember ever being happier. I never thought I would feel so free again after my brother died, so thank you for that."

Bayley thought she would have to pull Sasha into the hug, but to everyone's surprise, Sasha joined first, all four women leaning their heads together. "We can do this," Sasha said softly. "You're all brilliant and infuriating—yes, even you, Bayley—but I know we can do this."

"I hope you remember all this camaraderie the next time you all decide to tease me about not being able to steer a boat," Bex quipped.

Bayley was much more succinct: "I love all of you. Be safe."

Bex turned away as quickly as she could. The movement and purpose helped keep her tears at bay, but it also meant she couldn't see where Bayley or Sasha were heading. The less she knew, the less she could tell under duress. "Yes, I'm sure," Charlotte said, mouth quirking up at the corner. "You were going to ask me again, I could tell, so I beat you to it."

Side by side in silence—broken only by the occasional sniffle—they walked to the edge of the forest, where they paused. "Disappearing time," Bex said, summoning flames to writhe up her arms like snakes. "You're cloaking after we get inside, right?"

"Right." Charlotte started her part of the spell, the two halves braiding together seamlessly. Once the magic settled, she nodded and held out her hand. "Okay. Let's go. I can't hold too tightly," she added, "because it will look weird."

"I understand." The spell didn't impair Bex's vision, but it did cast a faint shimmer over everything, so she was careful to match her pace to Charlotte's and follow the air-archer's lead. Once they entered the castle, Bex held her breath every time they passed someone, every time Charlotte paused to speak with an attendant, every time anyone lingered or looked just that slightest bit too long. "We're clear," Charlotte whispered at last when they entered a dark corridor. "Relax before your arms freeze up."

"Sorry." Before she could say more, she spotted a flash of movement down the hall and tensed up. "Someone's there," Bex hissed.

"Father!" Charlotte said brightly, wearing her widest smile as he approached. "I'm so glad I found you before the—"

"Not now, sweetheart." Ric kissed her cheek absently. "Theodore's people are complaining that we arranged better rooms for Cody's people, and of course Randall's ambassador arrived early and is already making demands." Then he patted her cheek. "You look lovely. You're going to enchant them all. Be in the dining hall early, if you can. The more they see of you, the more they'll be impressed."

Watching Ric stride away without ever really engaging with his daughter, Bex felt her stomach clench. Was that what being a king did to someone? Did the weight of the crown steal your ability to connect to those closest to you? She had only known Charlotte for weeks, and even she could tell by the air-archer's body language that she wasn't herself. _I hope that doesn't happen to Finn._ She couldn't bear the thought of returning home to her beloved Ireland only to find her dearest friend turned aloof and absent. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Charlotte when they were alone again.

"Don't be." Charlotte did her best to hide her sniffle in her deep breath, but Bex heard its ragged edges. "And don't worry about Finn. I felt your concern for him through the spell. My father's always been a bit distant; the crown has just compounded that. From how you speak of Finn, I don't think that will be a problem for him."

Bex hoped Charlotte couldn't feel her blush through the spell too. "I hope you're right." She went quiet again as Charlotte led her into a small room. The fire-forger had been expecting a treasure room deep in the heart of the castle, but this looked comfortable—loved, almost. Aside from the heaps of treasure and the ostentatious decorations, it looked like a room to spend time in, rather than all the rooms she had walked past thus far. "Your room is the nicest one I've seen."

Charlotte smiled wanly. "It was my mother's. My sister and I both enjoy it." After shutting the door, she dropped her part of the spell. "You should take a break from that." Gesturing around the room, she added, "I had already started gathering some of the treasure. I thought it would make it less obvious when some was gone. When you have this many bags, it's easy to lose count."

Sasha would have heard arrogance in that, but Bex heard more discomfort. Certain treasures—like the beautiful swords in the corner or a lavish carving of a warhouse—were still on display, but there were dozens of bags that jingled with the promise of riches. "Wow." She took the larger sack Charlotte handed to her and started filling it with smaller ones. "Are you sure about this? What are you going to say to your father if he asks you? He'll remember seeing you down this hall. . . ."

"He won't ask me," Charlotte said with confidence, "because I won't be here. I'll be with you." Once she had one of the larger sacks filled, she set it aside and started on another. "Bayley's going to take the longest to get here, I imagine, but Sasha should be here soon."

"You're coming with us?" Now that some of the heat from the spell had dissipated, Bex was starting to breathe more evenly. "When did you deci—"

"With you," Charlotte interjected. "I don't know if I trust Sasha fully yet, so we'll see. Maybe we'll end up all going our own ways." She pulled a larger, softer-looking bag out from behind a chair. "I made sure to bring some of my things."

Bex peeked inside. All she could see were mounds of lush fabric. "Dresses? Why? Are you going to sell them or something?"

"No! I need something to wear! All my riding clothes are destroyed now. _Shhh!_ Hide over there—by the chair," Charlotte ordered suddenly. "I thought I heard someone." She opened the door gingerly, but Bex saw her muscles relax almost instantly. "Bayley! Hurry!"

Skin tinted grey from her burrowing, Bayley hurried inside. "Where's Sasha?" Then the earth-etcher started looking around at all the bags. "How am I supposed to burrow with these?"

" _Move!_ " The slithery sound came from the floor, and all three women looked down to see the faintest trickle of water creeping between the stones. When they gave it a wide berth, it began to spiral up and Sasha's form appeared, wobbling on her feet once her transformation was complete. Bayley was at her side in an instant, propping her up. "Sorry. Some prince was going on about the clarity of wine and they were all blocking my way, so I had to take a different path." When she saw the collection of sacks, her reaction wasn't much different than Bayley's. "How are we supposed to move all of these?"

Charlotte held Sasha's gaze for a moment. "There's four of us. We'll manage."

Bayley glanced from Charlotte to Sasha to Bex. "Did she say _four of us_? You're coming?"

"Yes." Charlotte was trying to sound stern, but her grin made it impossible. "But it won't matter if we don't get going. Put the smaller sacks in the bigger ones. I'll shield us all so we can go out the back." 

All four women worked quickly, cramming as much treasure into the travel sacks as they could. When a loud gong rang out, Bex winced. "Would that be your signal?"

Charlotte nodded. "It is." The air-archer took one last, longing look around the room she had spent so much time in as a child before taking a deep breath. "Everyone have their bags? Okay. Bex, we can do our regular spell. Bayley and Sasha, hold still. I mean it." Then she grabbed a small container from a nearby table, poured some powder into her hand, and blew it into their faces. "Okay. You should all be able to see me and Bayley and Sasha should be able to see Bex. Can you?"

"Yes," Sasha sputtered, fighting the urge to rub at her eyes. "What _was_ that?"

When Bayley confirmed she could see Charlotte as well, Bex stepped forward, trying to figure out where her friends were, but Charlotte grabbed her shoulder. "They're there, Bex. They're fine. I didn't have time to amend your spell. But we need to go. Come on. Everyone follow me." Then she and Bex reactivated their spell, creating a small eddy of sparks.

Bex felt a bit left out, only being able to see Charlotte, but there was no time to complain. They all crept out of the now very depleted treasure room and scurried down a warren of hallways, pausing whenever Charlotte held up a hand. The meal must have been in full swing, because the kitchen was surprisingly quiet. "Almost there," Bayley whispered.

"We can't have the door open for too long," Charlotte said, "or a draft will get in and extinguish the fire and I can't risk breaking my concentration to keep it under control. Bayley, you go first. It's not far to the postern gate."

Mere hours ago, Sasha would have debated the matter, asking if it was a set-up of some kind. Now she simply agreed. "Meet at the boat?" she confirmed.

"See you all there," Bayley replied. "Good luck."

Bex felt strangely adrift during their staggered escape since she couldn't see Bayley or Sasha. It was all she could do to keep her breathing under control and not drop her sacks, causing a ruckus. After a few moments, Charlotte checked the doors that led from the kitchen to the dining hall. "Sasha, go. Quickly. One of the cooks is returning." 

"Be safe," Sasha murmured quickly, darting out of the door when Charlotte held it open. 

The air-archer managed to get it closed just as a harried cook bustled inside. "Damn drafts," she swore, going over to the door and tugging on it to make it fit better in the frame. Then she refastened the bolt, making Bex wince. The cook would definitely remember something amiss about the kitchen now. "And damn king for not doing a damn thing about them!" Grumbling all the while, she prepared another tray of meats and hustled away.

As soon as the woman was gone, Bex stepped closer to Charlotte. "How are you going to close the door so it locks?"

"I'll have to drop the spell briefly," Charlotte answered with a grimace. "I can do it with air, but I need to concentrate on it. Head outside; I'll be right there." After she opened the door and herded Bex out, she set her bags outside as well so she wouldn't have to worry about them. Then she shed the spell like an old skin. "I'll be right th—"

"Charlotte? Sweetheart?"

Bex always felt a bit cold, but just then she felt as if her heart had been carved out of ice. She hadn't heard King Ric say much, but she recognized his voice. Charlotte sent out a quick, hasty bubble— _Go! Quickly!_ —but Bex's stubbornness won out and she lingered by the door, now mostly shut.

It felt like the ordeal with Sasha and Bayley all over again, being able to hear the voices but not see the speakers. "Father, what are you doing in the kitchens?"

The king laughed richly. "I could ask the same of you, Charlotte, but I'm pretty sure I know."

Wincing, Bex looked down at the bags by her feet. She couldn't carry them all; she was already struggling to maintain her portion of the blurring spell. But Sasha and Bayley would start to worry soon, and if they came back, then they would all be caught.

Charlotte's voice was falsely bright and after hearing true happiness in the air-archer's tone, Bex hated hearing anything else. "I didn't want to make a bad impression by eating too much," she said with a brittle laugh, "but I was hungry, so I thought I would sneak—"

"Charlotte, don't. I understand." Bex could hear a strange scraping sound and she cursed it, wondering what words she had missed from the king. "I needed to travel when I was your age. I needed space. I can't give you forever—you're part of the Flair legacy—but I can give you a bit of time."

"What . . . what are you saying?" Charlotte couldn't hide her sniffle this time, and Bex wished she could sneak back inside to comfort her.

"I'm saying that my lovely daughter caught some horrible sickness in England and is resting, and will join us tomorrow. And if her attendants happen to not find her in bed tomorrow," the king continued, "then I imagine I'll have to send out a search party. I think I'll start in the south."

 _The south._ Those were the lands of Clan McMahon and Clan Orton, Bex realized. Charlotte would never go there willingly and Ric must have known that.

"Just promise me you'll come back." Then there was a solid thump, as if knocking on a table. "And take this with you, for luck. It just arrived yesterday. I wanted it to be a surprise for you for when you made your choice, but. . . ."

"Father, I—" Charlotte sobbed then, and Bex couldn't hear anything more until the door opened and the air-archer emerged, carrying a large wooden carving. As soon as she was outside, the bolt was slid home. "Let's go," she said, her tears starting to slow. "I can make the bags float." 

Bex took a closer look at the carving as she hoisted her bags back over her shoulders. "It's a horse."

"Stormchaser. Reid's horse. Father commissioned it for my ship—the one I would get when I was married." Charlotte cast a quick spell on her bags of treasure, making them float behind her, and Bex marvelled that even with all that strain, the air-archer was still faster than her. 

_We'll need a bigger ship._ Bex wanted to say it to make Charlotte smile, make her feel included, but she knew that some pains needed to linger a bit and this was one of them. "Thank you," she said instead, keeping her voice low even when they entered the forest. "I know you're giving up a lot."

Charlotte knocked on the figurehead. "How much did you hear?" she asked, slowing slightly. Bex was about to ask why, but then she guessed that the air-archer didn't want Sasha or Bayley to know.

"More than I should have," Bex admitted. "I stayed near the door in case you got into trouble. I'm sorry. Once I heard that it was your father, I should have moved—"

"No. No, I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad you know he isn't all bad." Then Charlotte straightened up and quickened her pace. "Come on. We still need to get out of here before the guards' next patrol."

When they reached the chosen tree, Bayley and Sasha already had the boat down and in the water. "Where did that come from?" Sasha asked, pointing at the figurehead. "We don't have room—"

Bex held her gaze and shook her head imperceptibly. "We'll make room."

Bayley might not have understood why the figurehead was important to Charlotte, but she recognized its significance all the same. "We can make some adjustments to the boat tomorrow," she promised. "For now, between Sasha handling the river and. . . ." She turned to Bex then, likely unsure if Charlotte would be up to the rigours of managing the winds. "And I can reinforce the wood a bit. I still don't know the language too well, but I'm learning."

"I can handle the winds," Charlotte assured her. The four women loaded up their humble boat quickly, trying to distribute the weight as evenly as possible. The addition of the figurehead was causing some balance problems, though, and Charlotte patted its nose lovingly. "It won't fit on this boat, will it?"

Bex shook her head sadly. "Not right now. Maybe tomorrow, when Bayley and I make alterations." 

To everyone's surprise, Sasha spoke up with a solution. "I can float it alongside us in the river. The water will make sure it doesn't get damaged." She held Charlotte's gaze until the air-archer nodded, and then she reached into the river and scooped up two handfuls of water, dribbling them over the figurehead. "Okay. You can put it in the river now. Face up, just to be careful."

With one last pat on the nose, Charlotte placed the figurehead in the river as gently as she would put a baby in its cradle. Then she sat near the back of the boat, gazing down at her hands. "Thank you. All of you. I—"

"It's okay," Bex murmured. When Sasha pushed the boat off from the banks, the fire-forger nearly lost her balance, so she sat by Charlotte and rested her head on her knee. "We don't have to talk about it right now. Let's just get far enough away from the castle and then find a place to camp for the night."

Charlotte nodded absently, letting one hand dangle over the side of the boat so her fingers could touch the floating figurehead. "I just don't understand. . . . "

Bayley raised a curious eyebrow, but Bex waved her into silence. This wasn't the time to mention that the king knew that Charlotte was leaving. "Maybe we don't have to understand everything," Bex said with a shrug. "Maybe it will make sense later."

"I don't think much about the past moon has made any sense," Charlotte remarked, voice oddly distant. "Maybe that's why I enjoyed it so much. Back at the castle, everything was so predictable. Even the suitors: realistically, I knew that a marriage was coming sooner or later. But ever since I saw Bex on fire on that beach, I've felt like I've had no clue what's going on."

"To be fair," Bayley replied with a warm smile, "I don't think most people see a living person on fire every day. At least not one who's not screaming in agony."

Bex laughed, suddenly tired. Between the failed attempts with Sasha and Bayley's spells, the rush of stealing the treasure, and the fear of nearly being caught by the king, it felt like a whole day had gone by, but in reality it was only a few hours. "I can try that next time if you like," she offered, curling up beside Charlotte, "but given how much treasure we have here, we might not want to draw that much attention to ourselves."

Bayley looked around at all the bags, eyes going wide. "There's _so much here_. Just imagine how much good we're going to be able to do!"

"We still have to use some of it," Sasha warned her. "We have to eat. And sleeping in a bed will be nice after camping outside the castle for days. Plus we need supplies. . . ."

While Sasha and Bayley debated details versus dreams, Bex and Charlotte sat together quietly. "Thank you for coming with us."

Charlotte's smile was both sad and sweet. "Always."


	12. Chapter 12

It wasn't that Sasha thought robbing a castle would somehow be easy. She just figured that from beginning to end—from the first ridiculous idea to the planning and then the execution of the heist and their getaway—she would have thought the actual theft would have been the most difficult part of the equation. Castles were designed to be fortresses, after all, daunting and impregnable; if they hadn't had Charlotte on their side, even Sasha had to admit they never would have been successful. The planning had suffered a few setbacks, but once again, Charlotte's help had made all the difference. Now they were far enough away from Castle Flair that the king would need magic to track them with any sort of accuracy, and yet it seemed like their cohesion was starting to fray at the edges before it was ever truly whole. Charlotte was still adapting to her new—and decidedly less glamorous—life, the strain of the rivers was starting to stiffen up Sasha's joints, and Bex and Bayley were both tired from exertion.

Going back to England seemed like the obvious answer, and from there back to the far northern reaches of the continent, but Bex had said it would be too dangerous. "Charlotte was just there. She went to think about her impending marriage, remember? It will be one of the first places Ric would think to look." She had a strange look on her face when she said it, but Sasha was focussed more on her words than her expression.

"I think I'd be more worried about Randall," Bayley admitted. "He's not going to take this well, is he?"

"Don't worry about him," Charlotte said, voice almost snapping. "I'm more worried about Clan McMahon. My father might be willing to give me some space, but King Vincent isn't so kind. He likes to keep his local rulers in line, so he'll demand my father do something. Randall will help, of course, but for his own reasons." Then she looked to Bex. "Maybe Ireland? Would Finn take us in?"

Bex winced. "It wouldn't be up to him. Not yet. He's only a prince, not yet the king. I want all of us to be safe, but I don't want to bring ruin down on him either." In the end, though, she nodded. "If he finds out I was in trouble and _didn't_ go to him, though, he'll never forgive me. I just . . . ."

"You're worried about your family. That stands to reason." Bayley sat beside Bex and hugged her gently. Though they had put enough distance between themselves and Castle Flair to relax a bit, they had still spent most of their days travelling and their nights camping under whatever cover they could find. This would be the first night they would venture into a village and see if it was safe to barter for goods and perhaps hire some rooms so they could get some proper rest. "Maybe we could go to a different part of the country and lay low for a while?" the earth-etcher suggested.

"That means a lot of time on the sea," Bex warned. "I'm not sure. We could try. For now, let's focus on tonight. Food, supplies, sleep." She and Bayley had already taken apart their boat for the night and stowed its pieces in a cave by a small waterfall. In the days that had passed since their escape, they had gradually lengthened and widened the boat, and even attached the figurehead from Charlotte's father—once they were certain it hadn't been enchanted in any way. "Everyone has their trade bags?"

Sasha looked over at Charlotte. "Why are you taking your dresses? Look at this place! You think anyone's going to have use for a fancy gown? We're going to have a hard enough time using gold here."

"They're taking up too much space," Charlotte replied, shoving a dress deeper into the bag, "and it's not like I can wear them in the forest anyway. Maybe some village girl is getting married and can use one of the dresses. . . ."

Bayley shook her head. "Charlotte, it's a nice thought, but wearing a gown like yours in these parts would draw far too much attention. And if any of your father's men come through, they might recognize it and assume the family stole it and then punish them."

"Or torture them for information to find out where we are," Sasha added. "Just buy some riding clothes. We'll use the dresses as blankets until it's safe to try selling them off." She didn't think there would be much of a market for a princess's wardrobe anywhere they were likely to go, but she also hadn't ever thought she would be on the run with a princess either. 

For all her worldliness, Charlotte was unaccustomed to village ways, so she let the others take the lead, surveying the wares on offer first before they started asking for prices. In some places, they had been able to offer help in exchange for food and lodgings, but times were hard everywhere and more and more people were preferring to be paid. They certainly hadn't gone through their impressive haul yet, but they knew they could only live on a day-to-day basis for so long; eventually they would need to settle somewhere. "Is than an inn?" the air-archer asked, pointing at a building with a sign hanging above the door.

Bayley looked closer and nodded. "Should be. I'll go check." The earth-etcher ran over and spoke with an older woman feeding a horse tied to a post. The horse immediately took a liking to Bayley, butting her shoulder with its head, and the woman seemed to soften in kind. After a few minutes, Bayley returned. "We have two large rooms for the night and the use of a tub if we're willing to carry up the water and heat it."

Bex and Sasha exchanged a knowing look. "Truly, the hardships never end," Bex remarked dryly.

"And I asked if anyone had need of fancy fabric," Bayley added, glancing at Charlotte, "and she said we'd have better luck on the trade routes along the coast."

Charlotte sighed. "Another place my father's men will look."

"Let's get supplies first," Bex suggested, "and then get some sleep." She had been doing her best to keep Charlotte's spirits up, but all four of them were starting to feel the magnitude of what they had done and how much was still ahead of them.

As they went around the small village square, making their purchases, they chatted quietly, trying to not draw too much attention to themselves. They watched what the locals ate and bought the same, also stocking up for the next day's journey. Charlotte was so tall that she had to buy pants meant for men, much to the amusement of the woman who had made them, and when she tried them on in the inn, she realized they were far too large at the waist. "I miss my seamstress," Charlotte sighed, sounding almost near tears. 

To Bayley's surprise, Sasha went over to comfort her. "A belt will help, and I can help take them in a bit. They'll be fine. It's better than having a pair that's too tight or too short, right? It's easier to take away than it is to add."

And so the women gathered in the larger of the two rooms they had rented for the night. Since it had a fireplace, Sasha and Bayley both agreed it should go to Bex, since she got cold so easily, and Bayley started a fire so the fire-forger would have at least a little bit of heat. "Maybe we should bury some stashes of treasure in a few places," the earth-etcher suggested, curling up with Bex by the fire as Sasha made alterations to Charlotte's pants while the air-archer stood very still. "As a security measure. Then if we ever get in trouble, we would have some gold to spend."

"If no one else finds it in the meantime, that is." Bex's voice was thick and slow with sleepiness and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep with her head on Bayley's lap and a pile of blankets cocooned around her.

Bayley stroked Bex's curls softly and stayed as still as she could. "I'll need a pillow or something for when I move. I don't want to wake her." Then she looked up at the others. "For what it's worth, I think going to Ireland would be smart. It's further away, it wouldn't be the first place Ric would look, and at least we'd have some allies. I know Sasha and I have our families, but that's not enough. Bex knows _warriors_." With a smile, she added, "And if Finn is a prince, maybe he knows some princesses in need of fancy dresses."

Charlotte managed a smile at that. "But if something happened to her family because we went there, I could never forgive myself. I don't think you could forgive yourself either."

Sasha frowned a bit. "This is a discussion she deserves to be a part of," she stated firmly. "It's her home, her people. There's no risk for any of us, just reward. It's completely different for her—just like raiding the castle was for you, Charlotte." It wasn't an apology, not in the truest sense, but it was as much of an acknowledgement as Sasha was likely to give.

"We're all making sacrifices," Charlotte replied with a gracious nod. "So let's talk out the good points and the bad points of the plan and we can share them with Bex tomorrow morning."

The other three discussed as much as they could until they got too tired. "Should we leave her here," Bayley asked, pointing down at the still-sleeping Bex, "or get her into bed?" The floor wasn't very comfortable, but it was warm and cozy by the fire; the bed would be softer, but the sudden temperature change would probably wake the fire-forger and make it difficult for her to fall back to sleep.

"We know the fire won't hurt her." Sasha brought over the pillows from Bex's bed and held the fire-forger's head as Bayley slowly eased out from under her. Then Sasha slid the pillows in place and tucked the blankets in tighter before adding a few more. "We'll talk in the morning," she said to Charlotte as she stood up. "Are the pants okay?"

Charlotte got up again and did a few experimental moves: crouching, kicking, bringing her knee up high. Even in second-hand village clothes, she managed to look like a princess. "Much better. Thank you, Sasha." Then she paused. "I know we paid for two rooms, but if Bex is comfortable on the floor, why don't you two stay in here? Then we're all together—"

Bayley didn't need much convincing. She was already across the hall, grabbing her and Sasha's bags to bring over. "The beds are big enough too, or maybe they just feel that way because we've been sleeping on the ground for so long."

Bex was the only one who didn't sleep in a bed that night, but somehow she ended up being the most rested one the next morning. Perhaps it was because of her proximity to the fire or falling asleep on Bayley's lap, but she rose quickly and brightly in the morning while the others were groggy. "Good morning! I brought up breakfast for you," she announced, pointing to trays of food on the floor. "I thought I heard someone mention Finn last night while I was dozing. . . ." Her tone wasn't accusatory, but her clarity definitely caught them all off guard, fresh out of slumber.

"We were just discussing the strengths and weaknesses of going," Sasha explained. Since she was used to helping her mother with Joshua, she could usually clear her head in a hurry. "It was just talking. No one made a decision; we were waiting for this morning so we could discuss it with you and—"

"We should go," Bex said simply, delivering the trays of food to each of her friends before sitting back by the fire and eating from her own, which was almost empty. "Finn will find a way to help us, even if he can't do it himself. We can stay away from my family and . . . honestly, kings have long reaches. If Ric or King Vincent or whoever wants to find us, they will. All we can do is better our chances, and Ireland's my home; I know how to use it as a weapon."

Seeing that the fire had almost dwindled down overnight, Bayley added more wood and stoked it before returning to her food. "So we're all in favour?"

They were, and after they had all ate and bathed, they returned to their hidden boat and had it fully reassembled within the hour. Ireland would take longer to reach than England, but with the benefit of Sasha and Charlotte's powers, they were able to shave days off their voyage. They stopped as little as possible, often sailing in shifts—two resting, two guiding the boat—and only spending the night in a proper inn again before they were about to cross the channel and head west. Even though they knew it could be a difficult voyage, especially in a smaller vessel like theirs, Sasha was practically vibrating with excitement. The village they had stayed in was right on the sea, so she had been able to hear the waves all night long. "Now I understand why Bex likes sleeping by the fire. It's so . . . invigorating."

Bayley had been sleeping near her element every time they camped, so it was only Charlotte who couldn't share in her elation. She didn't complain, though, to Sasha's surprise. The longer they travelled together, they more they learned each other's likes and limits. There were still plenty of moments of irritation and misunderstanding, but they were definitely getting better. "I can't wait to use the sail properly," Charlotte said as they left the village. This time they had left their boat hidden in a seaside cave, and they would have to mind the tides when they retrieved the pieces.

"I hope the mast is stable," Bayley replied. "I've never made one before. Everyone used smaller boats on the rivers near our farm."

Sasha hugged the earth-etcher from the side. "It will be fine. And the sails will be the finest to ever grace the seas, thanks to Charlotte's dresses." The air-archer had kept her finest gowns, still hoping to barter with them—or, more likely, be able to wear them again—but she and Sasha had converted the skirts of some of the less opulent dresses into a sail for their boat. It made their vessel look like a wonder out of one of the sagas, which was both good and bad; the bright colours lifted their spirits, but were unfortunately very memorable. A proper sail, however, would have to wait until they reached Ireland, because none of the women wanted to spend too much of their haul on one.

The channel, the ocean, the sea: it was all a wonder to Sasha, whether it was gilded by the sun or sparkling under the moon and stars. To her, the crossing seemed to take no time at all, though she was sure the others, especially Bayley, would disagree. Once they neared the Irish coast, both Charlotte and Sasha deferred to Bex, who guided them to a rocky bit of beach. "That's the castle there in the distance," she announced. "So I know we could get closer, but I don't want them to raise the alarms. They won't recognize the boat anymore." The pride in her voice was edged with melancholy.

"What's that?" Sasha asked, pointing to a weathered standing stone near the coast. "It seems . . . out of place. Or deliberately placed." She got off the boat last, both because she knew the other elementals craved the solidity of ground under the feet and also so she could spend a bit more time with the waves.

Bex nodded. "It's an oath stone. You can swear fealty there. Sometimes warriors would get wed at the stone before leaving for battle, because the stone was said to play the part of a priest. It gives the power back to the people to make their own choices, their own vows."

Bayley smiled, stepping closer. "I like that idea. Can I . . . are people allowed to touch it?" When Bex nodded again, she rested her hand on the dark stone. "It sort of . . . hums. It definitely has power."

Clearing her throat, Charlotte rummaged in her much-depleted bag. Now that several of her dresses were gone and she spent more on clothes than the others, her share was dwindling faster, though Sasha also suspected that the air-archer was adding to the other three women's bags when they weren't looking. "I know our haul is meant to secure our freedom and help your families recover," she began awkwardly, "but I thought we all deserved to have something to remember our adventure. I don't want to part ways, but if we do, I want you all to know I'll never forget any of you, and I'll always be grateful for the times we shared." Then she opened her hand, showing four simple but elegant rings. One had a shimmering blue-green stone, one a radiant smoky amber, one a ruby with layers of fiery sparkle, and one an icy diamond, twinkling like a star. 

Bex grabbed the ruby ring and held it up to let the sunlight dance in the jewel. "They're all lovely."

"Randall may be horrible in many respects," Charlotte answered with a shrug, giving the ring with the blue-green stone to Sasha and the amber ring to Bayley, "but he has good taste." She slipped the diamond ring onto her right hand and admired it.

Bayley pointed shyly to the oath stone. "Maybe we could . . . vow to always help each other? Or at least not hurt or thwart any of the others? I don't know how these types of things are meant to go."

Bex smiled at her. "As long as you mean what you say," she replied, "there's no wrong way." She put on the fiery ring, trying it on a few different fingers until she found the best fit for it. Then she pressed her hand to the stone. "Finn calls me his sister because he says I annoy and amuse him in equal measure, and because he's learned to accept my bad traits as much as he loves my good ones. If that's the measure of a sister, that makes all three of you sisters to me."

"I love my family with everything I am," Sasha said, stepping forward to touch the stone. "They made me who I am, and you've all changed me too. I couldn't ask for better sisters."

"I already have a sister," Bayley began awkwardly, tracing some of the carvings in the stone with her fingertips, "but I would be happy to have three more, especially ones like you."

Charlotte was the last to touch the stone. "I have a sister too, but you three have changed my life in so many ways. I can only hope to return the favour."

After a moment or two, Sasha looked around. "Is that it? Are we supposed to . . . swear by blood or something?"

Laughing, Bex shook her head. "No. All the stone cares about is sincerity. At least that's how the legend goes." When she stepped back, she looked up towards the castle. "We should probably hide our boat in case a patrol comes around. I'd rather announce our presence ourselves than be hauled in before the king." She gave the oath stone one last pat before heading over to the boat. "Do we want to leave all our bags inside?" Gesturing to a small cave-like opening, she added, "I've used that nook before. It's a tight fit, but it's safe. And yes, Charlotte, the figurehead will make it through just fine."

The air-archer blushed a bit. She had grown oddly fond of her father's parting gift; Sasha was surprised she hadn't named it yet. "Just wait," Sasha called out, peering into the waves lapping at the shore. "Something feels weird."

Bayley stepped away from the oath stone so quickly that she almost tripped. "Is it because of the stone? Did we do something?"

"You're on my land. That's what you've done." The man's accent was somehow lighter than Bex's, more lyrical, but his tone brooked no argument. All four women turned as one to see a cluster of men with swords approaching.

At first, Sasha wasn't sure which one was Finn, but she assumed one was, given how Bex's face lit up. "Finn!" The fire-forger ran across the sand and hugged a man with piercing blue eyes. "We were just coming up to the castle."

" _We_ were, Becca?" Finn's tone had switched to affectionately chiding. "And who have you brought with you?"

Bex introduced them all in turn. "This is Bayley, Charlotte, and Sasha. They're . . . like me." From the way she hesitated, it was obvious that her fire-forging gift was not known to all of Finn's men. "This is Prince Finn."

Finn bowed his head slightly. "Finn will do nicely." Then he turned to his men. "There's no threat here. You can all return to your posts." The men all nodded, turned on their heels, and started back towards a path Sasha hadn't even noticed. "So you all wield fire?" He shut his eyes and shook his head. "Save me now. It's bad enough dealing with her, let alone three more!"

"No, no. They have different powers." Sasha noted that Bex didn't specify which, and she was grateful; Finn seemed trustworthy enough, but the water-weaver preferred to tell her own story. "I met Charlotte in England while I was visiting Paige, and then we encountered Bayley and Sasha at sea."

"In this case," Bayley grinned, " _encountered_ means 'our boats collided'."

Finn returned her smile with one of his own. "That sounds like something Bex would do. So it seems to me like some adventures were had. Any chance you'll regale me with a few stories of them after you're clean and fed?"

Bex rolled her eyes. "You make us sound like horses in the stables!"

"I wouldn't argue with food and some rest," Charlotte chimed in, gaze continually drawn back to the castle. "And a bath."

Finn greeted all the newcomers individually before gesturing to the trail. "This way. Any particular thing you'd like first: bath, rest, food? My father's not in residence, luckily for you," he added, nudging Bex's side, "but that doesn't mean you can get away with mischief."

"You're hardly one to talk about mischief," Bex replied, bumping her shoulder against Finn's. "You were twice the rascal I ever was in training!"

"I was your trainer!" Finn's laugh and how it made Bex relax made Sasha glad they had made the choice to come. It might not have been the safest haven, being so comparatively close to England, but it was worth it just to see the relief on the fire-forger's face. So far from her own family, Sasha nearly overflowed with delight to see that bond renewed for someone else.

"Oh, so you were showing me what _not_ to do? I understand now." Turning back to her friends, her newly-sworn sisters, Bex grinned. "He knows all about my powers. You can feel free to share with Finn. Your secrets are safe with him. Mind your noses, though. He nearly broke mine when he—"

"That's quite enough out of you, Bex. Paige is here, you know. I could send you back with her." It was meant to be a mocking threat from Finn, but the mention of England's queen reminded all four elementals of the people who could be following them. "She vaguely mentioned some troublemakers, but I'll be honest: I wasn't really paying attention. She has such a tendency to blather on abo—what?" When Finn finally noticed the strained silence between the women, he stopped. "What is it, Bex? What's wrong?"

"Nothing with Paige," Bex replied quickly. "She was a gracious host to me—to all of us. But those adventures we had might not quite be over yet, if you catch my drift. . . ."

Finn nodded slowly. "Understood. Let's get your boat hidden then and hurry back up to the castle. I won't let Paige know you're here until you're ready." 

Bex hadn't mentioned Finn having any powers, so Sasha was surprised when he helped right alongside the elementals, squeezing into the nook to hide their bags before the various wooden parts went in. "Give me a moment," Sasha said, going back to the edge of the shore so she could dip her hands in the water. _Keep harm from us. Keep us and those we love safe._ The ocean was big and vast and she couldn't possibly hope to connect to every drop of it, but now that she had three new sisters to care for, she would do whatever she could.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you causing me trouble again, Becca?" Finn's voice carried on the wind and Bex wasn't surprised to see him approaching her and Bayley alone. Though the king insisted that he have a retinue for safety's sake, Finn avoided it whenever he could. He did have his sword in his belt, though, so there had likely been a discussion between him and the king about security, especially in light of their unexpected guests.

Smiling, Bex stood up and brushed sand off her pants. She and Bayley were making more changes to the boat, enlarging it—in part so Charlotte's figurehead didn't look out of place—and anchoring spells within it so they would be easier to summon in an emergency. "Again? Doesn't that imply that I stopped at some point?"

Finn grinned back and came over to hug the fire-forger. "I would never accuse you of such a thing." Then he took a step back to critique the boat. "It's looking quite fine. Who would have thought you would ever become a shipbuilder? I practically had to tell you which end of the sword to hold so you didn't cut yourself."

"You did not." Bex feigned a kick at the prince before sitting back down beside Bayley. "Don't believe him," she mock whispered to the earth-etcher. "He can tell lies as easily as you can move the earth."

"And what does that make me, then?" Finn flopped down on the beach beside them. "A lie-looper? Surely it must have some name." After they had all finished laughing, he pointed down the beach to where Charlotte and Sasha were working. "What are they doing?"

"Making a proper sail," Bayley answered, leaning back against a section of the boat. They had tried a few ways of building spells into the boat, dismantling it each time after and letting the magic dissipate before trying a new method. Their current attempt seemed to be the most likely to hold up over time, so they were building slowly and carefully, hoping to make their hard work last. "The skirts won't be salvageable anymore, but at least they got us here."

"Speaking of skirts," Finn said, flicking some sand at Bex, "I was able to covert most of the treasure you . . . ahem, _rescued_. Now it's in coins that will be much easier to spend. I was even able to find some buyers for Charlotte's dresses. Some of the royal families in the north are struggling due to a war with Scotland, but they still want to keep up appearances. No one they're trying to impress is likely to have seen the dresses, so they're good as new to them and they're most grateful for them."

"That's good." Bex looked down the beach to where Charlotte was conjuring up a light breeze to test the new sail. The fabric caught the air so quickly that it almost got swept out to sea. "It's probably not wise for us to take all the money with us, is it?"

Finn reached over and knocked on the closest part of their boat. "In this death trap? Only if you want to make some salvagers very rich. You're all welcome to keep some coffers here. You know our castle is safe, Bex. But that's a discussion for the four of you."

Bayley looked out across the water. "Paige left rather quickly yesterday. Was that because of us?" Her shoulders slumped as she added, "We didn't want to bring any trouble to your shores."

"You shouldn't have brought this one with you, then," Finn said with a wink, pointing at Bex. "She's nothing but trouble. Paige was going to be heading back within a matter of days anyway, Bayley. She simply wanted to make sure things were okay in her absence, especially since King Ric's men might be paying an unannounced visit. She said that when you leave here, she wants you to stop in. Apparently she's arranging a gift for you."

"A gift?" Bex raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that Paige wasn't kind or generous, but after everything the elementals had put their various hosts through, gifts were the last thing they should be getting. "Why?"

Finn shrugged as he stood. "You'll have to ask her. In the meantime, I need to speak with Bex alone for a bit." He cast a dubious look at their boat, most of its parts currently strewn across the beach. "But I don't want to interrupt your progress."

Bayley shook her head. "It's fine. We should be taking a break anyway." She stood as well, stretching out her arms and legs slowly. "I'll go see how Charlotte and Sasha are doing. They haven't killed each other yet, which is a start."

"The start of _what_ , though?" Bex laughed. She and Finn strolled away from the pieces of the boat in the opposite direction, stopping at the oath stone. The fire-forger gave it a friendly pat. In its own way, it was an old friend. Finn had made her swear oaths there; she had made vows to her family, even herself. "If you need us to leave, Finn," she said plainly, looking up at her oldest friend, "you don't have to be coy about it. We understand. I was hesitant to come here in the first place, because I didn't want to make things difficult for you." She rested her head on his shoulder. "Or more difficult, rather."

"You're my favourite kind of trouble." Finn ruffled the fire-forger's hair and noticed the ring glinting on her finger. "A cherished prize from your adventures?" he asked. "Or a gift from an admirer?"

"A symbol of sisterhood." Bex gazed down the coastline where Bayley, Charlotte, and Sasha were talking. "Charlotte's a princess, you know, if you're still looking to get married. . . ."

Finn let out a sharp laugh before hugging Bex close. "If she comes with your approval, I'm sure she's a fine woman indeed, but thus far all of the best women in my life have been short and feisty and I see no reason to tempt the fates."

"Or start a war with Clan McMahon, I imagine." Bex's mood darkened again. "I'm serious, Finn. We appreciate everything you're doing for us and we know it's not without cost. If you need us to leave, just say so. We can be ready—"

"You're fine. I just wanted to get your true assessment of the situation." His gaze tracked the progress of the sail in the air for a few moments. "I thought you might be softening some of the harsher details to spare your friends—Bayley in particular. She strikes me as very strong, but also . . . delicate of heart."

Bex nodded in agreement. "One of my wisest trainers taught me that our strengths often have a way of being warped into being our weaknesses as well. Bayley is endlessly considerate, but she worries." Aware that the air was at Charlotte's beck and call, Bex tried to choose her words carefully. "I don't know how much trouble we might be in. It sounds like the king was going to cover for Charlotte for a while, but I don't know how long that can last. When he gave her the figurehead," she added, pointing to the carved warhorse, "he asked her to promise that she would return and she did. Granted, she could have just said that to appease him, because Sasha and Bayley had already gotten away by that point, but I'm . . . not sure. She's a princess at heart, Charlotte. She's trying to adapt to living on the run, but I can tell it's hard for her. I don't think she'll intentionally betray us, but—"

"But that promise is always going to be lurking in the back of your mind. _When is she going to leave us? When is she going back?_ " The look in Finn's eyes was piercing. "Trust me, sister, I know that feeling all too well."

It took Bex a moment to catch on. "Why? No. Finn, you know I'm . . . _Fergal_ ," she said desperately, burying her face in his shoulder. "You know I'm coming back someday. My family's here. You're here."

The haunted shadows didn't leave Finn's gaze, however. "I know you plan to, Becca. I know you want to. I just don't know if life will let you, and that's what scares me." He reached around her to touch the oath stone. "I've made vows here too, remember. Both of us have. I promised that I would look out for you, even if it meant making you angry. But how can I do that when you're across the sea? You could have been hurt at Castle Flair—you could have _died_ —and none of us here would have known."

Turning away, Bex frowned a bit. It was an old argument between them and though she understood and appreciated the sentiment, other people had loved ones even further away. "I imagine Bayley's family feels the same way, and Sasha's. Even Charlotte's."

"I know. I just want you to know that it's a hard burden to bear on _both_ sides, but I think you're finally grasping that now." Finn kissed the top of her head. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, all of you. I won't tell your family that you're here if you don't want me to, though; I know that would make it harder for you to make certain decisions. But I would like to know just how much trouble you think you're in. I think I deserve that much."

"You do." They were so in tune with each other that they sat down without speaking. "I'm a bit worried. I think we got away too easily. Sasha does too. I'm not sure about Charlotte. Bayley's mostly just happy to be safe, I think. King Ric was lining up a whole host of suitors to pick one for Charlotte, and I can't imagine they'll be too impressed when they discover that the princess is gone and so are most of the gifts they gave her. If they take it out on the king, Charlotte will never forgive herself. But at some point," Bex mused, "the longer she stays away, won't it make it that much harder to go back?"

Finn nodded grimly. "It will be harder for her to make that decision, but it's also not very likely that she would be welcomed back with open arms. I know you're worried about her leaving, but I'd imagine she's even more worried about being left behind."

Bex jerked back in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've only known the other three for a few days, but even I can tell there's animosity between Charlotte and Sasha. And it looks like Bayley usually sides with Sasha, so that leaves you as Charlotte's only potential ally," Finn pointed out. "And she wouldn't want to risk endangering you."

"This is such a mess." As much as Bex appreciated time with Finn—it had been a rarity even before she had left for England, thanks to his royal duties—she was grateful when she noticed the other three elementals approaching. "You can tell Charlotte about the dresses. I think it'll make her happy." They both lurched to their feet, unsteady in the sand. "How's the sail coming along?" Bex asked when they were near enough to hear her.

"Good. We should have it finished by by the end of the week," Sasha reported, glancing from Bex to Finn, "and then we can be out of your way."

"You're not in my way, I assure you. I'd let you know if you were." Finn glanced at the other women's hands, trying to find the rings that would match Bex's. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Until the king returns, anyway," he added with a laugh, "but he should still be gone for a few weeks yet. Charlotte, I found some princesses who would be very grateful for your dresses. They can't pay as much as they're worth, of course, but I believe their offer is fair."

Charlotte's face lit up. "I'm glad. I know I didn't always like being a princess, but I had a lot of happy times in those dresses." She shot Sasha a sharp look before continuing. "I'm glad they'll bring joy to someone else now."

"And Paige said she wants you to visit whenever you leave here," Finn added, "because she's going to have a gift for you. Bex already asked what it was, and I don't know. If you're worried it's a trap, I can come with you or send some of my warriors. . . ."

"We'll be fine, Finn." Bex hit his arm gently. "He's also offered to keep some of our money safe so we don't have to worry about taking it all with us. I think he just enjoys our company and wants us to keep coming back."

Finn's grin was dazzling. "Who wouldn't?" After he kissed Bex's cheek, he bowed slightly to the others. "I'll leave you to get back to your repairs so I don't eat up too much of your daylight. Take your time. The cooks can make you food whenever you like."

The mention of cooks made Bex think of her and Charlotte's narrow escape at Castle Flair, and she glanced over at the air-archer. Even though her attire was now more similar to what the other women were wearing, she still kept holding herself at a distance. "We won't be too much longer," Bex said, walking over to Charlotte's side. "If we focus on one thing for too long, we're probably going to miss all the flaws after a while."

After another bow, Finn departed, leaving the four elementals clustered around the oath stone. "I was thinking," Bayley began slowly, resting a hand on the stone for support. "Bex, I know you said it's the intent that matters, not the words, and I know we were all sincere when we made our oath, but. . . ." She paused for a moment, looking at them each in turn. "Maybe I've heard too many stories, but I guess I just expected something more."

To Bex's surprise, it was Charlotte who replied first. "Do you mean something more like a formal vow? I'm okay with that. You all know I can't stay away from my kingdom forever, but I imagine that you all have other things you want to achieve; maybe you want to have a family of your own or—"

"So how do we make it more formal?" Sasha looked to Charlotte, which was another surprise, especially since her tone wasn't snide in the least. If anything, she sounded humble.

"A lot of the older formal vows used blood," Bex warned. "But we don't have to—"

The other three elementals held out their hands, all scraped and bloody from their work on the boat and the sail. "I don't think any of us would have to open a vein for that," Sasha remarked. "What else?"

Bex pointed out a few spots on the oath stone that looked almost as dark as night. "You can tell where people rubbed their blood. It's never a lot. I remember a vow my father made long ago, when he and my mother were parting ways. They both vowed by something under their power that they would do their best to put my brother and me first."

"We could be more literal," Bayley interjected, "and swear on our actual powers—our elements. We could swear not to use them for harm and that we'll always look out for our sisters."

"I like that idea," Charlotte smiled, wrapping an arm around the fire-forger's shoulders. "Bex, you should go first. This is your homeland, after all."

"I don't think the oath stone cares about things like that," Bex replied, "but I can go first." Her knuckles were scraped and bloody from rearranging the boat slats over and over, so she rubbed the blood from her fingers into one of the anointed grooves in the oath stone. "I vow not to use flames for harm unless I'm defending those who need it." Bex knew she probably should have added some other exceptions, but she hoped the oath stone would be forgiving. "And I vow to use all the intensity and energy of fire to keep my family and my sisters safe." Shrugging, she conjured a small flame and pressed it to the stone, tracing the first letter of her name, When she stepped back, her gaze flitted from sister to sister, elemental to elemental. "I don't know if that's enough," she murmured. "It's not much different than what I said before. . . ."

Charlotte kissed the top of her head. "I thought it was lovely." She stepped forward next, squeezing a fingertip until the needle wound there bled anew. Then she added a line of blood to the oath stone, make sure it overlapped with Bex's, creating a chain around the rock. "I vow not to twist the air for harm unless I'm defending those who need it," she intoned, echoing Bex's wording. "And I vow to use all the power and potency of air to keep my family and my sisters safe." After pursing her lips and tracing the first letter of her name with her breath, she stepped back and rejoined the fire-forger, linking arms with her.

"I'm not sure how your hands got so bloody, Charlotte. How clumsy are you?" Sasha said, standing before the oath stone and examining her hands to find the worst cuts. She had been helping with the boat earlier, treating the wood with enchanted water, but then the air-archer had needed her help with the sail. "This will have to do," she remarked, rubbing a bloodied knuckle against the wood, making sure her stain both overlapped Charlotte's and left enough room for Bayley's. "I vow not to use water—river, sea, or otherwise—for harm unless I'm defending those who need it, and I vow to use all the persistence and vitality of water to keep my family and my sisters safe." Then Sasha dipped her fingers into a nearby tidal pool and drew the first letter of her name on the stone.

Bayley's face scrunched up in concentration. "I'm not sure how to describe the earth. I was going to use _vitality_. . . ."

Bex laughed gently. "You still can. It's not like Sasha claimed it. Some of the elements do similar things or have similar traits—just like us."

"If you're sure." Bayley twisted the amber ring on her finger. While they had been working on the boat, she was afraid to wear it, worried that she might damage or lose it; she wasn't used to having anything so delicate. "Okay, well. . . ." Unlike Sasha and Charlotte, she had plenty of wounds to choose from on her hands, and her finger shook as she made her line of blood join with both Sasha's and Bex's. "I vow not to use earth and its ilk for harm unless I'm defending those who need it," Bayley echoed, bending to get a handful of sand, "and I vow to use all the constancy and . . . abundance of earth to keep my family and my sisters safe." Then she took a pinch of sand and used it to rub the first letter of her name into the stone before letting the other grains fall back to the beach.

The four friends were quiet for a long while, gradually closing the distance between each other until they were in a huddle. "Did that feel more like an oath to you?" Bex asked the earth-etcher, who blushed a bit. "It's okay, Bayley. I know what you meant. But in this case, I think it's probably a good thing not to see a sign from the gods."

"Time will tell," Sasha replied. Then she clutched her stomach. "There's one vote for going back to the castle to eat. We can cast cover spells to hide the boat and sail; besides, Finn said most people didn't come down to this stretch anyway."

The four elementals cast cover spells by air, earth, and water to hide their work from prying eyes or thieving hands before heading back up to the castle, and thus began the rhythm of their next few days, waking as early as possible to take advantage of the sun and going to bed early, often eating meals down at the beach. Finn visited daily and offered the assistance of some of his most trustworthy knights so the elementals didn't have to waste time foraging for supplies. By the time they had finished their boat to their satisfaction, they had spilled far more blood on the beach than they had on the oath stone, which had come to feel like a kindly sentinel watching over their work.

Since they wanted a quiet departure, only Finn was on the shore to see them off. "My father will still be away for a couple more weeks," he reminded them. "You're welcome to rest for a few days before you continue on your way."

Charlotte stepped forward to give him a farewell hug. "We met on the move, and that's how we work best. We appreciate the offer, though."

Then Sasha approached, winking as she said, "Be careful what you wish for, Prince. We may be back before you know it."

Finn laughed as he hugged her. "I'll have your rooms kept as they are, then. They'll be ready and waiting for you."

Bayley knew Bex should have the most time with Finn, so she went next. "Thank you for everything. Aside from the wounds and the stress and the planning, this has been one of the most incredible weeks of my life. And the food was so good!"

"You're welcome, Bayley. The cooks are over the moon with the bounty in the garden," Finn added with a chuckle, "so they would be more than happy to have to back any time. You can eat as much as you like."

The other three women busied themselves with loading the boat to give Bex a measure of privacy, but both the fire-forger and the prince seemed resolved to keep things brief. "I'm going to miss you," Bex said simply, hugging Finn so tightly he winced. 

"Good," he replied somewhat raggedly, "because that means you'll come home faster. My love goes with you, sister." Finn kept his lips pressed to her forehead long enough that Bex could feel his tears sliding through her hair.

"And mine stays here with you." Bex kissed his cheek quickly and ran towards the boat, knowing she wouldn't be able to control her tears if she lingered.

Finn stood at the edge of the shore as they eased the boat into the water. "I'd say _Kind waves and kind winds_ ," he remarked, "but with the lot of you, that's a rather moot point. Blessings upon your journey and your path."

Since Charlotte and Sasha were minding the wind and the waves, Bayley sat beside Bex and hugged her. "I'm glad you got to spend some time with him. It's easy to see why you love him so much."

"But not enough, he would say, to make me stay." Bex kept blinking so she could see through her tears. "I should heat up some air to help with the sail—"

Bayley held the fire-forger's arm so she couldn't get up. "Charlotte's got it covered. And Finn would never force you to stay. He loves you too much. You can try to fence in a fire with stones, but sparks will still jump free, right?"

"I suppose." Bex wasn't sure which had hurt more: going to Ireland while knowing it could endanger Finn, or leaving Ireland not knowing when she would see him again. She didn't want to wallow in her sadness, though, so she rubbed her face dry and smiled at Bayley. "Any guesses as to what Paige's gift for us might be? I'm hoping for swords."

At the rear of the boat, controlling the wind and the angle of the sail, Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Of course you would. I'm hoping for some decent wine and maybe some riding clothes. Finn's seamstress did an excellent job of altering my clothes, but. . . . " She trailed off, expecting the others to scoff, but they simply nodded. The air-archer's love of finer things was as much a part of her as her power, and they were slowly coming to terms with it.

"I know it's not likely," Sasha admitted, trailing a hand in the water, "but I'm hoping she has word from my family and Bayley's. I didn't want to risk sending a bottle from Ireland, and Joshua's probably so worried right now. . . ."

Bayley gave the water-weaver a reassuring smile. "As soon as we get to the mainland," she promised, "that's the first thing we'll do. And find new homes for my family and yours."

Bex nudged the earth-etcher with her shoulder. "What do you hope the gift is?"

"You'll all probably think it's silly," Bayley admitted, looking down at her ring. "But I hope it's horses. I loved helping in Finn's stables, and once we get to the mainland, horses would be really useful. . . . "

All the elementals' voices rose at once, but not as one. "Horses!" Bex exclaimed. "We just finished expanding the boat! There's no room for horses!"

Bayley just smiled. "But now we know how to build a bigger boat."


End file.
